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© Tulane University 
Richard Scott Paddor, Editor 
New Orleans, Louisiana 

You need the best ingredients to 
make a great /ambaJaya. 



Richard Scott Padclor 

Robert Eliot Paddor 
Associate Editor 

Alan E. Krinzman 
Associate Editor 


Ernest M. Back 
Administrative Assistant 

Debra Luskey 
Art Director 

Joanie Cleary 

Kathleen Edwards 

Sally Sue Victor 

Administrative Secretaries 

Patrick Carney 

Professor Andy Antippas 
Faculty Advisor 

Stacey Berger 
Assistant Editor 

Robert Warren Swasey 
Art Editor 

Mark Sindler, Francisco Alecha, 

Andrew Boyd, Grant Bagan, 

Burgess Chambers, Toby Darden, 

John Kelly Charlton, 

Dudley Sharp, Rob Sharpstein 


Barnett Brimberg, 

Matt Anderson, Mike Smith, 

Avery Crounse, Wade Hanks 

Contributing Photographers 





1909 - 1975 

















DEAN OF STUDENTS, 1951-1975. 



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/^TKLaiCS 136 







History Of Tulane 

Gazing out upon the expansive vista of the Tulane Campus and the surrounding area af- 
forded by a fourth floor window seat in the Howard Tilton Memorial Library, it is interesting 
to recall the process by which Tulane University grew to its present proportions. 

In September of 1834 the university made its "humble but honorable" beginnings as the 
Medical College of Louisiana, with no definite income, eleven students, a faculty of eight, 
and no home other than a few lecture rooms in the statehouse. The growth of the infant col- 
lege, until the War was steady, but not phenomenal. The Civil War closed the University in 
1860's and the war's aftermath brought grave financial difficulties. However, with the gene- 
rous sponsorship of Paul Tulane, a wealthy New Orleans merchant, the University was once 
again able to thrive. 

Inl882, he set up the Tulane Educational Fund to be administered by a 17-man self- 
perpetuating board. In 1884 the state legislature turned over the property and control of the 
University of Louisiana to this Board with the addition of three ex-officio members. The Uni- 
versity, now a private institution, was named The Tulane University of Louisiana in honor of 
its benefactor. 

Mrs. Josephine Louise Newcomb founded Newcomb College in 1888 as a memorial to her 
daughter, Harriet Newcomb, who died of diptheria at age fifteen. Newcomb was the first 
women's college in the country to be coordinated as a part of a university. 

Today the University consists of 10 colleges, and is a campus of four locations: the main 
uptown campus, the downtown medical complex, the Primate Center, and the Riverside 
Research Laboratories. 

The student body of today's Tulane may believe that their difficulties in dealing with the 
university are only restricted to their era. This fallacy is quickly corrected when looking back 
and finding that even problems in course selection existed for the alumni — only worse. In 
1894 the catalogue of Tulane University said that the College of Arts and Sciences was "not 
trusting in the ability of immature students or even of parents who have seldom duly con- 
sidered the subject, the College of Arts and Sciences now offers four courses of study with 
prescribed branches, each leading to a baccalaureate degree." The clash between the elective 
system and the classical curriculum characterized the academic philosophy until the turn of 
the century. 

The male student of this period more often than not wore a moustache, his hair parted in 
the middle and combed toward his ears. His suit was tight-fitting complete with vest, high 
starched collars, derby hat and high laced shoes. Newcomb's coeds prided themselves on a 
"Scarlett O'Hara" waist, and long flowing skirts that covered everything except her toes. 
School spirit meant "shirt-tail" parades, bonfires, pep rallies, tears shed at the loss of a game 
and dying for the dear old alma mater. Organized athletics came about in 1887 with track 
being the major attraction as football did not enter New Orleans until the collegiates from the 
East brought it down a few years later. 

Students became a bit more emancipated in the era of the "flapper." Tulane professors had 
to learn to accept the new coed image — rolled stockings and half exposed thighs — a far cry 
from the protective long skirts of the earlier years. Inter-collegiate athletics occupied the 
minds of students throughout the 1920's and 30's with football and tennis the most popular. 
Sound familiar? 

Tulane has seen troublesome times — struggles with poverty. Civil War and Reconstruction, 
two World Wars and Depression. It has grown because of its founders, faculties and admini- 
strators, its benefactors, alumni and students. In this year of 1975, Tulane stands as a com- 
posite of its colorful traditions and its modern ideals. 






By William R. Cullison 

Eittff^O jj' 

Front Elevation, Gibson Hall. 
Harrod and Andry, Architects. August 26, 1893. 


By the late 1880's, the Common 
Street campus of Tulane University, 
as a result of increased enrollment 
and growing curricula, became in- 
adequate to the needs of the school. 
Realizing that further expansion 
within the already congested down- 
town business district would be 
difficult (even if it were desirable), 
university officials began looking 
for another solution to the problem. 
Finally in 1891 property on St. 
Charles was purchased with the 
idea that the school should move as 
soon as new buildings could be put 

In March of 1892, the University 
invited architects to submit designs 
in competition for a large "college 
building" to be constructed on a 
proposed new campus on St. 
Charles Avenue across from Audu- 
bon Park. According to the require- 
ments of the competition, the pro- 
jected building was to contain both 
administrative facilities for the 
school and classrooms. It was also 
to cost "around $100,000" and to be 
"constructed of brick or of stone, if 
the difference can be made up." 

Despite the fact that plans for 
only one building were solicited for, 
it was intended that the new Tulane 
campus should from the start consist 
of several other structures as well. 
Depending upon the exact amount 
of money raised, university officials 
additionally planned to put up a 
manual training hall, chemistry and 
physics laboratories (these were to 
be separate but were to match each 
other in design), a library and a 
number of others. While it is not so 
stated in any of the sources pres- 
ently available, it would appear that 
the winner of the administration- 
classroom building competition was 
supposed to supply the designs for 
these buildings also. (As it turned 
out, this is exactly what happened). 

For the proposed administration- 
classroom structure (ultimately 
Gibson Hall), the university re- 
ceived a total of eighteen designs 
from twelve different architects. 
The majority of the designs were 
submitted by New Orleans prac- 
titioners, though there were also 
entries from as far away as Birming- 
ham and Cincinnati. 


old Tulane Campus on Common Street, 
(originally University of Louisiana). 1890. 


At the judging of the competition, 
held May 9, 1892, a committee of 
university administrators and fac- 
ulty selected as the winning entry 
the design that was submitted by the 
office of Harrod and Andry, a New 
Orleans firm composed of architect- 
engineer Benjamin Morgan Harrod 
(1838-1912) and his young partner 
Paul Andry (1868-1946). In choosing 
the winning design, the committee 
noted that it was "commodious, 
adapted to the requirements of the 
situation and a very handsome 

Besides Gibson Hall, the final 
building program for the new cam- 
pus included four other structures. 
These were: a physics laboratory; 
a building comprising individual 
sections for electrical and mechan- 
ical engineering, a machine and 
carpentry shop and a chemistry lab 
(by this time, university officials 
had decided to leave the separate 
chemistry building to the future and 
to include a smaller "temporary" 
chemical lab with engineering); 
another building housing a black- 
smith and tin shop; and a power 
house. According to the program, 
the latter three structures were to 
be grouped together, a situation 
which soon caused them all to be 
referred to simply as the "engineer- 
ing buildings" or the "engineering 
complex." (It was while drawing the 
proposals for the additional campus 
buildings that Andry reworked his 
original scheme for Gibson Hall; 
the new design was also presented 

and approved on May 26, 1893. 

In late August of 1893, the con- 
struction drawings for Gibson and 
the physics lab were completed, and 
at the bidding held the following 
month Thomas Nicholson of 
Chicago was awarded contract for 
both. Because Nicholson's bids 
were somewhat under the amount 
allotted for these structures, Tulane 
officials immediately began to dis- 
cuss the possibility of including in 
the building program the since- 
forgotten-about separate chemistry 
laboratory. To find out if the ad- 
ditional structure was economically 
feasible, the university bid the final 
drawings for the engineering com- 
plex — these were completed a 
short time later — both with and 
without the temporary chemical 

On December 12, 1893, New 
Orleans, builder John McNally was 
found to be the low bidder for each 
of the two slightly different engi- 
neering proposals, and two days 
later the university's administrators 
declared the cost differential 
($12,000) large enough to allow for 
the extra building without a budget 
overrun. Accordingly, McNally was 
authorized to build the engineering 
complex without the temporary 
chemical lab and Harrod and Andry 
were commissioned to draw plans 
for the new one. The contract for 
the chemistry building, drawings, 
for which were finished in January 
of 1894 and bid the following month, 
went to Thomas Nicholson. 


,,H„„is central Railroad S.a.ion (Union S'a"on^ R^P^J. SJ-tj^Now O^Jean. 


Work was begun on Gibson Hall 
and the physics laboratory at the 
end of 1893. By May 1, 1894, both of 
these buildings were nearing com- 
pletion as was the engineering com- 
plex, begun in the early part of the 
same year. The chemistry building, 
begun a few months after the en- 
gineering complex, was at this point 
not so far along. All the buildings on 
the new campus were finished by 
the summer of 1894 at which time 
the university moved from its old 
quarters on Common Street. 

With reference to the layout of 
the new campus, Gibson Hall was 
situated near and parallel to St. 
Charles roughly equidistant from 
the lateral boundaries of the uni- 
versity property. Some distance - 
behind Gibson were located the 
physics and chemistry labs (these 
are now history and the computer 
center, respectively), one to either 
side of the campus and quite close 
to its edges. The latter two buildings 
also faced toward the campus and 
quite close to its edges. The latter 
two buildings also faced toward the 
Avenue but were placed at a slight 
angle to the former, giving a feeling 
of enclosure to the open space 
created by the three structures and 
suggesting a typical college quad- 
rangle. As for the new engineering 
complex, this was situated adjacent 

to and behind the chemical lab run- 
ning toward Freret Street. 

While Gibson Hall was intended 
all along to occupy a prominent 
position at the front of the campus, 
there appears to have been little 
thought given initially to just where 
the other buildings were to be 
located. Indeed there is strong evi- 
dence that the other structures were 
actually designed before their par- 
ticular locations were determined. 
It would also appear that at no time 
during the planning and execution 
of the initial building program was 
there serious thought given to any 
sort of proposal for future univer- 
sity development. While there are 
today preserved in the Tulane 
Library several site plans for the 
original St. Charles campus, these 
show only structures proposed at 
various times during the planning of 
the initial building program and 
none projected for the future. 

As can be seen in the present 
building, the final design for Gibson 
Hall was largely based upon Harrod 
and Andry's prizewinning compe- 
tition entry. While of rockf ace stone 
as originally proposed, the building 
has, however, no bell tower and its 
central and end pavilions are less 
pronounced than in the earlier 


Paul Andry at his drafting table. 


Prizewinning competition 

perspective for Gibson ^j^,^.. _ . 

Hall, 1892. Harrod and ,^_ais, 

Andry, Architects. - -,-~ ~ 

— i^^-^^j' 




' ■¥■ Bf ndEBWCEIj- 

Suggested master plan for Tulane, 1910. 
Andry and Bendernagel, Architects. 


At the same time, what in the first design 
was a random assortment of variously-sized 
round and segmental arched windows is now 
at the first floor a continuous row of large 
identical round arched openings and at the 
second a series of smaller double round 
arched openings with triple arched openings 
in the center of each of the main elevations. 
As constructed, Gibson also has much less 
decorations than the competition proposal, 
the only ornament appearing on the building 
around the main entrances, in the dormers 
and in the gables of the central pavilions. 

Andry's designs for the physics and chem- 
istry labs are stylistically similar to Gibson, 
i.e. basically in the style of Henry Hobson 
Richardson, but a good deal simpler both in 
form and detail. Built of pressed brick with 
stone trim, these repeat the latter's rectan- 
gular shape, central gabled pavilion feature 
and neo-Romanesque detail. Their boxish 
regularity, fenestration (arched windows be- 
low, rectangular above) and low hipped 
roofs were, however, undoubtedly in- 
fluenced by the old Union Railroad Station 
on Rampart Street. 

The original Tulane engineering complex 
has been largely added to or otherwise al- 
tered through the years and while difficult 
to pinpoint is nonetheless almost all still 
standing. The most easily recognized part of 
the design today is the mechanical labora- 
tory, now the Civil Engineering Building. 
Constructed, like the rest of the complex, 
completely of brick, this is a heavy two-story 
Richardsonian derivative with a high hipped 
roof and recessed arched entrances, the 
enormous patterned "voussiors" of which 
are made entirely of headers. Less well pre- 
served than the mechanical structure but 
nonetheless substantially intact is the elec- 
trical laboratory, now the William B. Greg- 

ory Hydraulics Lab. This still retains its 
original walls, but its high hipped roof and 
cupola (the latter was patterned after that on 
the Union station] is now replaced with a 
second story of recent vintage. The remain- 
ing portion of the lab, clearly Richardsonian 
in spirit, is detailed in a manner similar to 
the adjoining mechanical building. 

Although Tulane's newly-completed St. 
Charles plant was an improvement over its 
Common Street predecessor, even it did not 
meet all the needs of the school. While well 
equipped with classrooms, it had, for 
instance, no facilities for non-academic 
activity — a gymnasium had been mentioned 
for inclusion in the initial building program 
but because of financial restrictions had 
been eliminated — nor any dormitories. 
(Students from out of town were forced to 
board with families living near the school). 
Also conspicuously absent was a separate 
library. A separate library had, as was 
noted, been considered early on in the plan- 
ning of the new campus but as much for lack 
of books as for lack of money had not been 
built. (Until such time as a building could 
be put up, the university's library was to be 
housed in Gibson Hall). Tulane officials 
were well aware of the need for these ad- 
ditional facilities, however, and it was not 
long before they began to plan for them. 
By 1901, work had begun on the first 
structure to be put up on the new campus 
since the completion of the original building 
program — the F. W. Tilton Memorial 
Library. This was soon followed by a series 
of other buildings including a dormitory, 
refectory, more classrooms and several 
additions. These however, constitute the 
second phase of construction on the cam- 
pus and as such lie outside the scope of this 

William R. Cullison is curator of prints 

and drawings at the Howard-Tilton 

Memorial Library of Tulane University. 









Herbert Longenecker 

President of Tulane, 1961-1975 

24 . 

Jambalaya Message 

... as I approach a new phase in life . . . 

In 1935, an instructorship in biochemistry at Penn State tipped the scales for me in favor of 
an academic career and away from either industry or the professional musician's world. 

Now, after forty years in university service — two as a post-doctoral research fellow abroad, 
seventeen as a faculty member and dean at the University of Pittsburgh, five as vice president 
of the University of Illinois at the Medical Center, and fifteen as president of Tulane — a 
major change is about to occur and with it, an invitation to contribute a few lines for a student 

Many thoughts crowd into one's mind in an attempt to respond. Only a few can appro- 
priately be shared here. 

Pleasant thoughts stem from: 

— the truly outstanding Tulane student body only a few hundred of whom it has been 
possible to know as individuals each year; 

— the dedicated faculty and staff members, and their husbands and wives, whose interest 
in the student's growth and maturation is unflagging despite handicaps under which they 
have often had to work. 

— successful alumni, contributing to the quality of life in their communities in all parts of 
the world. 

— thousands of loyal friends of the university whose connection is maintained by deep 
interest in the university's people and programs; 

— courageous and dedicated board members whose timeless energies have formulated, 
guided, and defended, when necessary, the policies of Tulane; 

— the respect in which Tulane is held wherever one goes in the world — as one of just 23 
private universities in the United States among 59 total major research universities; 

— the enormous increases in financial support from both private and public sources for 
Tulane and the translation of that support into a steady stream of improvements in the 
university's facilities and programs. 

There are a few regrets, too: 

— that there was never enough time to know well every one of the splendid and delightful 
students and faculty and staff members; 

— that fiscal resources fully commensurate with the needs and the potential for Tulane's 
leadership role were unavailable; 

— that the increasing financial dependence on public funds will almost certainly diminish 
Tulane's independence in its future decision making. 

Summing up, one thinks of the basic purposes for which Tulane University exists. In Paul 
Tulane's words, his gifts that brought about the university as we have known it were ". . . for 
the promotion and encouragement of intellectual, moral and industrial education . . . for the 
advancement of learning and letters, (including) the arts and sciences . . ." His objective in 
giving, joined by countless thousands of others, has indeed been achieved. 

On a personal note as I approach a new phase of life, I am reminded of the words of an 
anonymous writer who said: 

"Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind. It is a temper of the will, a quality of the 
imagination, a vigor of the emotions .... Nobody grows old living a number of years. People 
grow old only by deserting their ideals .... Whether seventy or sixteen there is in every 
being's heart the love of wonder, the sweet amazement at the stars and star-like things and 
thoughts .... You are as young as your faith, as young as your self-confidence, as old as your 
despair .... 

(Receiving) messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage, grandeur, and power from the earth, 
from men, and from the Infinite, so long are you young." 


John H. Stibbs 

Dean of Students, 1951-1975 


For Jambalaya 

The Jambalaya has honored me greatly in this 1975 edition. This marks the 25th anniversary 
of my serving Tulane University as its first Dean of Students. I accept your recognition with 
deep appreciation. 

You have requested some comments from me at this time, and were kind enough not to limit 
my remarks. I should like to remind you that I have simply filled a necessary position. After 
all, we need florists, dentists, zoo keepers, and deans of students. I want you to know that in 
spite of continual crises, such as the big student demonstrations of the late '60's and other 
campus problems, I have, in my way, enjoyed every minute of it. 

A strange analogy comes to my mind. It is expressed in a line from Kipling, in one of his sea 
verses. Except for this one line, the poem is hardly worth notice. The ship is at sea, and a 
cockney Londoner, who is a common seaman with a background of indifferent hard work, 
falls sick and dies. At the simple burial ceremonies, the Captain orders the canvas shroud 
with the lead weights to be slipped over the side. He directs the man's friend, another 
cockney, to say a few words. The friend paused briefly, and then with blunt certainty spoke 
up, '"E LIKED IT ALL!" 

I want to thank the students of several generations who have become, through a variety of 
contacts, my close personal friends. I have written and deposited in the library a short volume 
of memoirs of the twenty-five years of my student deaning. In this volume, I have acknowl- 
edged in detail my indebtedness to colleagues and students who have served with me faith- 
fully during these years. I hope this cross-reference will meet to some small degree a re- 
sponsibility I feel in preparing this necessarily short statement. 

During recent months I have learned something about myself — most particularly, that it is 
not as easy as I thought to leave the post I have occupied for a quarter of a century. I find that 
I have become involved not only in the "little" world of Dean of Students, but also in the 
greater problems of the whole University. Without displaying my ignorance, let me say that I 
have some sense of the awesome problems that stand before us in the immediate years to 
come. In this University we have a multiplicity of schools, colleges, divisions and service. But 
what is needed at Tulane is a multiplicity within unity. The alternative is separatism. If we 
fail to work together, we will retreat into a divided multiplicity — pre-law, pre-medicine, a 
separate women's college, and football dorm at the Dome. This is not what the students want. 
This is not what the members of the faculty want. Both students and faculty want to be a part 
of a united Tulane University. 

A collegiate institution, like a civilization or a work of art, is something put together. The 
ingredients, of course, must be there. If you would be first rate, the ingredients must have 
quality. At the college or university, the quality student is essential — certainly not the sorry 
fellow who won't work and wishes himself in the Virgin Islands, or some other faraway place. 
But with all the ingredients, and with quality in each, there has to be a fusion. Arnold Toynbee 
has written about the "Second Challenge" that causes a civilization to draw together in 
strength and grow in stature. The mystery of the Taj Mahal, Michelangelo's David, and the 
Mona Lisa, in each case, a wonderful fusion of ingredients into a unity. This feeling of unity, 
this University spirit, is a great and wonderful thing. It can be promoted; it should be worked 
on at all levels. AND WE OUGHT TO BE ABOUT IT! 

Let me turn again to the field of letters, this time to John Milton. His deep interest in edu- 
cation and the driving force of goodness in man should be an inspiration to us all. His power- 
ful ringing words of faith should challenge our thinking, as we plunge forward in the work 
that lies ahead at Tulane. Milton's mighty statement should guide us and inspire us with con- 
fidence as it did those who had to meet the searing problems of the Cromwellian Era, "There 
is no power human or from Heaven that can war against the good in man!!" 


Robert A. Scruton 

Director of Security, 1960-1975 


Foreword: The editors of the Jambalaya asked me to write a story about my job at Tulane 
because I am retiring January 1, 1975. Here it is 

Auf Wiedersehen 

by Robert A. Scruton 

I'm turning in the badge at 62. It is flattering that many students and professors have asked 
me to stay on. But 26 years in the infantry, 3 shooting wars, and 16 years as Tulane's Security 
Director are enough. I don't rebound from long hours and lost sleep like I used to. It's time to 
change the guard. 

The increasing demands of the job can be measured by the increasing number of Ma Bell's 
instruments I have in the office and my home. I started out with one in the office and one 
bedside. Now I have nine in the office and three in the house. They all ring more or less 
constantly. Most of the problems are human ones; mine is a "people job." I do almost as much 
business over my home communication center as I do in the office — that's a lot of humanity. 
But after all, Tulane is a city inside a city. 

My first human problem came on a sleeting winter morning in 1959. The bedside phone rang 
at 3 a.m. and Fred, a freshman, said he was in jail. He confessed to a few of Pat O'Brien's 
"Hurricanes" and to sassing the cops. He needed $100 cash to get sprung. Could I help? 

"Do we have a hundred in the sock?" I asked my wife. 

"You can use the house money," she said. 

So I took the house cash, went to the jail, sprung Fred and brought him back to his dorm. He 
paid me back in a couple of days and I got a call of thanks from his father. Somehow it made 
me feel good and worthwhile. Fred, a Tulane Law School Grad, is an attorney in the city now 
and tells me he'll return the favor anytime. 

Word of the new "service" spread fast. Soon I was a fixture at the lockup, getting the kids 
sprung. Most charges were minor, what you'd expect from youngsters in a swinging town. 
Hell, I'd done the same thing for my GI's when I was a company commander. I've seen a lot 
of jails and they're no place to stay any longer than you have to. I guess I've sprung 3,000 
frightened people in my time at Tulane, including professors and staff. It was hard on the 
sleep but good for the people. As I said, mine is a people job. 


Not all the calls for help were so uncomplicated. One midnight in February 1960 the bedside 
phone rang and the desperate voice of a girl said: "Colonel Scruton, I'm going to kill myself in 
a minute. I'm just calling to give you my name and where you can find my body." She gave me 
the address of a motel on Chef Menteur. 

"Will you talk to my wife just a little, honey?" I said. 

She talked to Leila for 30 minutes — long enough for me to get to the motel. She hung up 
just as the manager and I rushed into her room. She had a chance to swallow only a few pills. 
I put her into the car and raced her to Health Service, where Dr. Trickett waited to pump her 
out. Just as we were leaving the manager said: "Hey, she owes eight bucks rent! And keep it 
out of the papers, will you bud? Ain't good for business." 

So I threw him the rent and kept it out of the papers, and Paul Trickett pumped her out. But 
the real life-saver was Leila. That girl would have died without a woman's voice to allay her. 
When you're very young and a love affair goes sour, it often seems that suicide is the only way 
out. Leila often helped in similar emergencies and wild rides to motels on the outskirts of the 
city. When she died in 1965 I lost not only a wife but a member of the team. Yet I am a lucky 
man; my present wife, Leona, is a lady of endless patience and understanding, often remind- 
ing me that, though I have no kids of my own, I have a big family at Tulane. Amen! 

Although I did not know it then, doing all this for others was to be a big help to me in the 
years of student turbulence ('69 and '70). By that time I had an image of going out of my way to 
help others. The kids respected me, even liked me, though I always did my damndest to get 
them a stiff lick of Dean's discipline when they got too far out of line. We understand each 
other very well. In 1963 they promoted me to General and were later to give me their top 
prize — the John H. Stibbs Award, named in honor of Tulane's first Dean of Students. 

I had a lot of other things to do besides being helpful, in those early years at Tulane. I had 
to learn my way around the thicket of committees and how to deal with the traffic chaos. I've 
never really licked that one. I've found that everyone is in favor of traffic enforcement except 
when it is applied to them. Then you get denounced. It is necessary to understand this "people 
principle" in order to maintain serenity while you're being denounced. I have a good pro- 
fessor friend who gets tickets. Then we play a game. He comes to my office and denounces me 
for 10 minutes while I listen serenely. Then I say: 

"That will be ten bucks. Make out your check payable to Tulane." We're good friends. He's 
also a philosopher. 


And there were other things to do. I had to get my cops — the Greenies — around to my way 
of thinking, a philosophy of campus law enforcement, and I had to learn how to cope with the 
numerous panty-raids of the era. One thing I learned about those affairs was that unless you 
can stop them before they get really going, you may as well relax and enjoy it. We haven't had 
one for quite awhile — "streaking" may be "in" these days — and I very much hope the kids 
don't stage one in honor of my retirement. 

There was a really nasty problem in those days. A large con-fraternity of outsiders, who 
today would be called "gays" but were then known by a less gentle term, had infested the 
campus. Some would alight from trains and head straight for one of our facilities which shall 
be nameless. They couldn't wait! It was a sticky wicket. But after all, Tulane is a city within a 

Getting more money out of the Administration was another tough problem, like staging a 
successful raid on Fort Knox. But I managed to wheedle better pay for the Greenies, radio 
equipment, and a patrol-car ambulance — the celebrated Car 6. When we got our first car we 
stencilled it up all policey looking and then the question came up what number we'd call it. 

"Why don't you call it car 6," a Greenie Sergeant said. "Then everyone will think we've got 
lots of cars and the campus is well-policed." 

So Car 6 it became. We've had seven Car 6's in my time, but only one at a time. The seven 
sixes have transported about 11,000 ill and injured to medical help all over the city. 

I had enough to do in those early years to keep me on 80-hour weeks, but the truly ugly 
problem didn't hit me until 1967. As the national and city crime rate soared, our unfenced 
campus got its share. Drugs. Muggings. Attempted rapes. Robberies. The campus actually 
became dangerous. Along with the pros of football in the Stadium came pros of another kind. 
More and more often the Greenies were in Criminal and Municipal Courts, testifying against 
those they had arrested. I reorganized my department to cope in 1968, and we're still coping. 
It's a tough situation. 

Yes, tougher than '69 and '70, our years of student unrest. 

I'm not going to say much about those years. Perhaps in the 1980s some historian, armed 
with the perspective of time, should write that story for the archives. 


I'll say only this — for me it was another kind of combat. Those marching, hollering, dem- 
onstrating kids — the "enemy" as some called them — were my friends. You don't tear-gas 
your friends. You don't bring in the riot squads. In fact, you disarm your Greenies to make 
sure that no tragic accident occurs. You overlook a lot of things and you don't make petty 
arrests. You have to know that the kids were frenzied by the articulate persuasion of a very 
few. You keep the cool and you have to find the right words — exactly the right words — to 
tell the kids. There was an incident, one of many, that makes the point. 

A Greenie was accused of rapping the knuckles of a freshman at one of the flagpole dem- 
onstrations. Right away a cry went up. Police brutality! Police brutality! Rapidly a great 
caucus assembled in the then "occupied" University Center. The alleged victim got up and 
shouted that a Greenie had knocked the sh out of him. 

"I don't see how you say that," I said. "You still seem to have a lot left in you." 

It brought down the occupied house. I don't know how I found just the right words. They 
may have made up for all my mistakes. 

Still, there was a lot of tension, including 408 bomb threats. In one stress period I never left 
the campus for 30 days. It was the one time my Leona complained. 

"When are you coming home?" she'd demand over the phone. "I'm tired of being alone!" 

So we compromised. She'd come to me in the office with one of her gourmet meals. She is 
unquestionably the finest cook in New Orleans, as those who have tasted her food, including 
students, can vouch. (The Underground Gourmet would give her five stars, a Generalissimo of 
cuisine!) And along with the food she'd bring me a stiff bourbon, my pills, fresh clothes, and 
lots of wifely advice — a real member of the team. 

We're near the end now. I've saluted the big generals in my time — MacArthur, Eisenhower, 
Bradley, Patton — and won a collection of the better combat awards. But I do not think I 
saluted the generals with the same sincerity that I now salute the students of Tulane. And 
that award they gave me — it's right up there with the best I got for another kind of combat. 

Well, that's it. Some say I should write a novel about this, but I do better with the shorter 
stuff. So — briefly — Auf Wiedersehen — to the students, the staff, the faculty, the Admini- 
stration — and the Greenies who loyally serve the University. 



Edmund Mcllhenny 
Chairman of the Board 

Edmund Mcllhenny, 

Gerald Louis Andrus, 

Sam Israel, Jr., 

John Winston Deming, 

George Shelby Friedrichs 
Ford Mulford Graham 
Frederic Bigelow Kelleher 
Alden James Laborde 
Floyd Wallace Lewis 
William Blanc Monroe, Jr. 
Lanier Allingham Simmons 
Charles Gabriel Smither 
Edgar Bloom Stern, Jr. 
Arthur Joseph Waechter, Jr. 
Ex Officio 

The Governor of Louisiana 
The Mayor of New Orleans 
The State Superintendent 

of Education 
Board of Administrators 


Charles Leverich Eshleman 

George Shepard Farnsworth 

Clifford Freret Favrot 

Darwin Shriever Fenner 

Richard West Freeman 

Leon Irwin, Jr. 

Jacob Segura Landry 

Lester Joseph Lautenschlaeger 

Joseph McCloskey 

Joseph West Montgomery 

Clayton Ludlow Nairne 

Isidore Newman 

Ashton Phelps 

Marie L. Wilcox Snellings 

George Angus Wilson 

Anthony Percy Generes, 


Invited by the Board 

Frank Thomas Birtel 

Jean Marie Danielson 

Wayne Shaffer Woody 

Students Elected 

Peter Kohlman 

George Ann Hayne 

Scott Wagman 


David R. Deener 
Provost/Dean of Graduate School 

Albert Wetzel 
Director of Development 

Jessie Morgfin 
Business Manager 

Samuel Hulbert 
Dean, School of Engineering 

William Turner 
Dean, School of Architecture 

Joseph Sweeney 
Dean, Law School 

[ames T. Hamlin 

Dean, School of Medicine 

Wayne Woody 

Associate Dean, Law School 

Fred Sutherland 
Dean, School of Social Work 

]nsf;[ih Gordon 

Dean, School of Arts and Science 

ohn McDowell 
Assistant Dean, School of Arts and Science 

Robert Wauchope 

Director of Middle American Research Institute 

Dorothy Dale 

Director of Admissions, Newcomb 

Anna Many 
Emeritus Dean, Newcomb 

Buddy DeMonsebert 
Business Manager, Athletics 

Rix Yiird 
Director of Athletics 

Bea Fields 

Director, Alumni 


Dr. Patrick Hanley 
President, Alumni Association 

Joseph Hammill 

Director of University Food Services 

John Gribbin 
Director of Libraries 

Robert Mclnerney 

Director of Housing 

and Food Services 

Don Moore 

Acting Dean of Students 

Claude Mason 

Assistant Dean of Students 

Einar Pedersen 
Director of University Center 

Thomas Loved 

Director of Financial Aid 

Mason Webster 
Director of Placement 

George Molliere 



Elton Endicott 

Waller vf)n Klein 
Director of Student Records 

Samuel Cresap 
Purchasing Agent 





Director of 

Director of 




Stanley Have 





We sit in the dark green, mahogany-lined con- 
ference room adjacent to the President's office in 
Gibson Hall. Myself, the editor, and a photographer 
— wondering if there will be enough light for photo- 
graphs, wondering if the tape recorder will work, 
wondering "what he'll be like." He's late. The con- 
ference room is somehow imposing — with its long 
antique table, its huge antique bookcase filled with 
antique books. One wonders what important deci- 
sions have been made here, what crises have been 
met. Probably none. 

There is a shuffle of feet outside the door, some 
last minute instructions as to what time tomorrow's 
meeting is scheduled can be overheard. Clarence 
Scheps, executive vice president, opens the door, 
closely followed by someone who grabs my hand 
saying, "Hi, I'm Sheldon Hackney." He is a tall man, 
perhaps six feet four inches; he moves with the grace 
of a natural athlete. He is dressed in a sports coat and 
slacks, and is wearing a tie that could have been 
designed by the technicolor department of Walt 
Disney Studios. We sit down. 

Francis Sheldon Hackney was born on December 5, 
1933 in Birmingham, Alabama. His voice still bears 

traces of his southern heritage. At forty-two, he is a 
man who looks thirty. He received his B.A. in 1955 
from Vanderbilt, his M.A. from Yale in 1963, and in 
1966 was awarded his doctorate from Yale University. 
Since 1965 he has been at Princeton University, first 
as an instructor, then working his way up the tenure 
ladder to full professor in 1972. That same year 
Sheldon Hackney was named Provost of Princeton, 
attaining that high office in the short space of seven 
years. At the ripe age of thirty-nine, he was among the 
finalists in Princeton's search for a President. 

He has published extensively; in 1969 he authored 
his first book. Populism to Progressivism in Alabama. 
For that effort he was awarded the Albert Beveridge 
Prize by the American Historical Association for the 
best book in American History published in the year 
1969. Numerous articles and an edition on contem- 
porary problems followed. He counts among his 
friends and advisors C. Van Woodward of Yale and 
Arthur Link of Princeton — two of America's most 
important historians. Barely forty, he'stood (stands) 
on the edge of a highly rewarding, successful, aca- 
demic career. He could have easily succeeded Link 
at Princeton in a prestigious chair. He is an academic 


success and, by all standards, still several years away 
from his "academic prime." This past spring, Sheldon 
Hackney accepted the post of President of Tulane 
University, effective July 1, 1975. Not only has he 
shifted his focus from teaching and writing to ad- 
ministration, but he has done so at a University that 
finds itself in grave financial crisis. From the comfort 
of academia and the financial comfort of Princeton 
to the trials of administration and the money squeeze 
at Tulane, Hackney has altered the course of his 
professional life. 

places in the South, not many private institutions of 
higher education that have a chance to really become 
great universities. The South needs a great university, 
I think. Tulane is one of the places that has a chance 
to make it, I think primarily because of its tradition 
as a very strong university, one with very high stan- 
dards, able to attract good students and good faculty. 
All those things are under pressure because of the 
financial situation at the moment, but, because the 
tradition is there, and because New Orleans is such 
an attractive place, and because I think that potential 

I wondered, "Why administration, why Tulane?" 
I questioned Hackney on this point. "Well, first, the 
Princeton situation is not all that comfortable. They 
run a much richer operation than Tulane has and 
they're faced with the decision of running a less 
rich, that is a less sumptuous, educational program, 
or finding new revenue. The Tulane situation is, I 
think, very similar." Hackney continued, explaining 
his reasons for switching to administration and for 
coming to Tulane. 

"What attracts me, well, one can start with the fact 
that Tulane is in the South. This is a less tangible 
reason. I'm from the South, I've been interested in 
Southern history professionally. I have thought for 
some time that it would be fun for me to come back 
to the South and to try to do something, to make some 
contribution in the field that I know best, which is 
education and/or history. There are very few places 
in the South, I think, where a significant difference 
can be made to the region's future. Private univer- 
sities happen to be the thing that I know best, I guess, 
because I went to Vanderbilt and went to Yale and 
then to teach at Princeton and they are all very 
similar kinds of institutions. There are not many 

sources of support are also there, Tulane has the 
chance to be truly great." 

Somehow all this talk about greatness is almost 
believable — coming from Hackney, that is. The 
reason that it is perhaps believable is because 
Sheldon Hackney recognized the major problems of 
private higher education in this country. This recog- 
nition does not, however, presuppose that he has the 
answers to such problems. 

In a speech to the Tulane Board of Visitors on 
April 3, 1975, Hackney outlined these problems and 
defined them as ". . . the unfortunate confluence of 
demography, inflation, recession, and history." He is 
correct when he asserts that, "Throughout our history 
Americans have ascribed an almost magic quality to 
education. We have looked to school to provide access 
to the word of God, the rules of law, and the duties of 
a citizen in a democracy." In addition to these tra- 
ditional expectancies, Americans have correlated 
higher education with higher income and a better 
standard of living. Hackney continued, saying that 
fewer people are going to college now, partially 
because of the costs involved and partially because 
of a reversal in the growth trend. College-age popu- 


lation will actually decrease in the next fifteen years. 
Rising costs due to inflation, and parents' inability to 
afford a private university for their children have 
taken their toll on the university's ability to be 
financially solvent. 

Should we, I asked, because of these different 
crises, change the basic notion of the liberal arts 
education to something more "job oriented"? What, 
in essence, should our goal be? Hackney finds Robert 
Goldwin's viewpoint very congenial. Goldwin, 
special assistant to the President with responsibilities 
as liaison to the academic community, argues that in 
this rapidly changing world of future shock, the only 
kind of education that makes sense is education for an 
indefinite future. Learning how to learn, he said, is a 
skill derived from a liberal education, and it is the 
most important skill one can acquire. Quoting Hack- 
ney, again from his speech to the Board of Visitors: 
"Undergraduate education should focus on develop- 
ing the capacity for critical thought, the capacity for 
defining and evaluating options and for making de- 
cisions .... Between the formal and informal cur- 
riculum, students should almost by accident be 
stimulated and challenged by exposure to the broader 
culture, different systems of thought, and the highest 
standards of excellence." 

Finding myself satisfied with Hackney's overall 
view of higher education, its problems and goals, I 
am still wondering, "What kind of President will he 
be?" Much can be determined from the kinds of 
personal relations Sheldon Hackney keeps. Lest I 
make the same mistake Dr. Hackney made, I choose 
to talk about his wife, Lucy, first. In the acknowledg- 
ment in his book on progressivism in Alabama, 
Hackney writes about Lucy, "To my wife, who will 
see the humor of being mentioned last, I owe much 
that can not be noted here. Nevertheless, my apprec- 
iation of her fund of understanding, her vitality, and 
her painfully proper sense of priorities should not 
go unrecorded." Lucy Judkins Durr married Sheldon 
Hackney on June 15, 1957. Beyond being a June bride, 
there is little about her that is traditional. Lucy left 
Radcliff to marry Sheldon before she was graduated. 
Ten months later she bore their first child. This 
spring, well into her thirties, she will graduate with 
a B.A. from Princeton. Her main interest is public 
affairs. She was manager of George McGovern's 
presidential campaign in the Princeton area. She 
maintains, as does her husband, an active role in the 
American Civil Liberties Union. There is the distinct 
possibility that she will enter Law School once the 
family is settled in New Orleans — Fall, 1976, per- 
haps. She will not be the traditional wife, solely 
supportive of her husband. In describing her. Dr. 
Hackney said, "Lucy is very interested in public 
affairs in general and politics. I suspect that she will 
pursue those with a lot of her time. Lucy has her own 
activities and her own life and will lead those." 

What is emerging in this portrait of a President- 
elect is a man who is entirely contemporary. Much 
unlike his predecessor, Sheldon Hackney is a student 
of the 1960's, and all that that turbulent decade repre- 
sents. For Tulane he is a radical departure from the 
leadership of the past, unlike it in age, education, 
personal belief and personality. This difference is 
high-lighted in a comment Hackney made to me in 
response to a question about what caused student 
activism in the 1960's. "The student 'revolt' must be 
looked at through social history. The unrest is un- 
explainable unless you connect it to the real issues 
that students were mostly organized around — civil 
rights and the war. But that's not all it was; I think 
basically what was also happening then was a real 
effort to reorient institutions to reflect more the 
current realities of the status of young people. Young 
people were achieving more and more freedom — 
economic, political, social freedom — except in col- 
leges where they were still in a dependent status on 
the institution, vis-a-vis the faculty, in loco parentis, 
etc. There was bound to be some shakeup, some 
readjustment of that relationship, and what is 
emerging is really a different ethos, a different 
atmosphere in which the student lives which governs 
the relationships of students and faculty. The inclu- 
sion of students on policy-making and decision- 
making boards is an example of this change. I think 
that's good; you get better decisions that way. Basi- 
cally, it is a sociological readjustment that has taken 
place and I don't think that basic values that young 
people were trying to express have changed." 

Hackney's formative years as a teacher were in the 
middle of that period of conflict in American univer- 
sities. He brings to Tulane a sensitivity — recently 
acquired — to people, to students, and to issues. 
Issues which are current — contemporary, if you 
will — and are at the heart of this ever-emerging 
concept of what a university is. This sensitivity will 
surely find its way into policy. Out of this sensitivity 
grows Hackney's view of a university as he expressed 
it to me: "I think very much about a University as a 
community of trust in which people can live and work 
together with the sort of human relationships, com- 
mon purpose and common identification that I think 
is ideal in society. One of the functions of a university 
is to demonstrate to people who come through it, the 
students who pass through it, transiently in a way, 
that that sort of existence is possible and is worth 
striving for." 

In the midst of Hackney's enthusiasm, his sensi- 
tivity and commitment, the question still remains — 
can he do it? Tulane has many problems. The Uni- 
versity's endowment is small — and its reserves funds 
are dwindling. The University can meet only so many 
more years of deficit spending. Because of the money 
squeeze, good junior faculty are looking for jobs 
elsewhere, academic programs are suffering and 


tuition has just gone up $400.00 for 1975-76. With all 
these problems, can Sheldon Hackney make Tulane 
the "great" University of which he speaks? And can 
he do it in an economically and politically pessi- 
mistic time? 

I think he can. Hackney will bear the heaviest of 
burdens and walk the thinest of lines — but it can be 
done. He must create a positive attitude in the 
faculty — something which has been non-existent in 
the demoralizing atmosphere of the past five years. 
He is looked to by students as a young president, one 
not so far removed from them in either age or phil- 
osophy. Student demands for a greater voice in the 
decision making processes are likely to continue. 

To be sure there will be many circumstances that 
Hackney can not control. The University is already 
committed to the new Medical Complex and its 
enormous costs. It was originally planned to have this 
teaching hospital make money to offset the annual 
deficit of the Medical School. Many in the local 
medical community question this. 

Hackney will have very little or no control over 
Federal and State aid policy to higher education. 
Though he is for state aid to Tulane, one can hardly 
be sanguine about the prospects for substantial state 
governmental aid. Tulane's relationship to the State 
of Louisiana is a very delicate one, characterized 
by tax-exempt status, legislative scholarships and 
who knows what else. 

There are, however, many areas where Hackney 
can exercise substantial control. This is where the 
difference will be made. Hackney must exercise 
strong, positive academic leadership. He has ex- 
pressed the sincere desire to be a part of a revitaliz- 
ing process — the internal revitalization of Tulane. 
Perhaps Hackney's strongest attribute is his openness 
and candor. He impresses me as being the kind of 
man who will tell things as they are, even if they will 
be unpleasant to the listener. His enthusiasm, his 
youth, and a proven capacity for work, will aid him 
in his task. 

A very important sidelight to this story of Sheldon 
Hackney is the story of how and why he was offered 
the job in the first place. In offering Hackney the job 
of President, the Tulane Board of Administrators has 
made the move for change. Largely, this new attitude 
can be attributed to two men, Edmund Mcllhenny, 
Board chairman, and Gerald Andrus, chairman of the 
Selection Committee. There is a new force emerging 
on the Board, different from the leadership of the 
past. Mcllhenny, Andrus, Lanier Simmons (the 
Board's only female member) and Bill Monroe are 
members of this new force. What makes Hackney's 
chances for success good are these people who, 
hopefully, will support the new President when the 
tough decisions need to be made. One would suspect 
that the Board is ready for change and a progressive 
administration, or they would not have gone to 

Hackney in the first place. It can be said that a new 
president with fresh ideas and a progressive outlook, 
and a Board willing to act positively and progres- 
sively, will combine to make Tulane as strong as it 
once was. This spirit of cooperation between Presi- 
dent and Board will be directly related to Tulane's 
ability to "come back." We are in for an exciting 
time at Tulane. 

In closing his speech to the Tulane Board of Visi- 
tors, Hackney compared the University to the elegant 
bridges of an architect named Maillart. 

"Maillart bridges are simple elegance functioning 
at the most practical level to facilitate traffic across 
a chasm. They are a fitting metaphor for a University 
whose vitality depends so much upon the bridging of 
internal gaps and whose social function is to connect 
people to ideas and ideas to reality. 

"If I am right, Tulane can be that sort of an elegant 
educational sculpture. It is certainly not immune 
from the problems of private higher education, but it 
has great strengths as well. In the first place, it is a 
University, with the advantages that can accrue to 
diversity. It has a heritage of high standards that 
distinguish it from other universities in its region. 
There is about it a marvelously beguiling regional 
ambience and tradition, aided by all of the attractions 
of one of the continent's foremost cities. Yet, it is an 
institution which draws and sends students nationally 
and has a national reputation. In the coming shakeout 
of higher education, Tulane may shake, but it will be 
mainly from the reverberations of people crossing 

This kind of language makes one enthusiastic about 
the University's future. Yet we would be foolish to 
make the mistakes of the past — the mistakes of in- 
action. Tulane must not only shake from people 
crossing bridges but must shake to its heels internally 
if we are to merit support from the outside com- 
munity. Do-nothing deans and department chairmen, 
lethargic and disinterested faculty, arrogant and 
short-sighted alumni must shake in this revitalization 
process. Apathetic students must, perhaps more so 
than any other group, shake themselves to an aware- 
ness of the University's plight. A great university can 
stand these tests. It will not happen by itself and it 
will not happen over night. Socrates said, "Time in 
its ageing course teaches all things." But for Tulane, 
time is short. 
About the author — 

Jim Cobb is a 1974 graduate of the College of Arts 
and Sciences, Tulane University. While at Tulane, 
he was student representative to the Tulane Board 
of Administrators for the years 1972-73, 1973-74. 
Additionally, he was student representative to the 
Board of Visitors from 1971-74, addressing that group 
in 1971 on Tulane and the Community — Some 
Responsibilities." He will enter the Tulane Law 
School in the Fall of 1975. 

— The Editor 



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Marjjarel Campbell 
Helen Cassidy 
Cynthia Christy 
Alice Clark 
Rita Comarda 
Edwin I- Cryer 
Christine Derbe* 
Helen Fife 
Nell Lipscomb 
Esther McBride 
Luis F. Marloreli 
Frank Pinion 
Louise Rachal 
Dorothy Randolph 
Elizabeth Rayne 
Eugenie Schwartz 
Fred M. Soulherland 
Raymond A. Swan 
Elizabeth Torre 
Ethel van Dyck 
Gunde M. Williams 


Olto Olivera 

Almir Brunei! 


James C. Maloney 

William J. Smilher 

Norman C. Miller 

Alberto M. Vazquez 

D. W. McPheeters 

George Wilkins 

Thomas Montgomery 

Daniel Wogan 



Melvin Gruwell 

James Quick 

Eldrige Gendron 

Jacyra Abreu 

Shuell Jones 

Harold Shuler 

Louis Barrilleaux 

Thomas Patrick 

James Sirles 

Marguerite Bougere 

Douglas MacPherson 




Robert Force 

Thomas J. Andre, Jr. 

Hoffman F. Fuller 


Leon D. Hubert. Jr. 

Harvey C. Couch III 

Alain A. Levasseur 

Winslon Day 

William A. Lovett 

Luther L. McDougal III 

John L. Peschel 

Leonard Oppenheim 

Clinton W. Shinn 

Christopher Osakwe 

Ferdinand F. Stone 

Vernon V. Palmer 

Joseph M. Sweeney 

BillupsP. Percy 

Wayne S. Woody 




1. Robert G. Yaeger. Ph.D. 

2. John ]. Walsh, M.D. 

3. )amesT. Hamlin, M.D. 

4. Clifford Newman, Ph.D. 

5. Jerome R. Ryan, M.D. 

6. RulhS. Hoffman, M.D. 

7. Georgiana Von Langermann, M.D. 

8. Edward G.Peebles, Ph.D. 

9. George A. Adroney, Ph.D. 

10. James E.Muldrey, Ph.D. 

11. Wallace K.Tomlinson, M.D. 

12. Fannie Mae Lemann, M.S. W. 

13. Leon B. Walker, Ph.D. 

14. Dr. Nina Dhurandhar 

15. George B.Mitchell, M.D. 

16. Arthur W. Epstein, M.D. 

17. Judith Domer, Ph.D. 

18. Paul Guth, Ph.D. 

19. Rune Sljernholm, Ph.D. 

20. William Cohen, Ph.D. 

21. FernandoP. Chirino, M.D. 

22. Martins. Litwin, M.D. 

23. David Jarrott, M.D. 

24. WallerJ. Sluckey, M.D. 

25. James W.Fisher, Ph.D. 

26. GunlherSchoellman, M.D. 

27. Laurence D. Fairbanks, Ph.D. 

28. Eugene Hamori, Ph.D. 

29. Michael L. Michel, M.D. 

30. Claudia B.Odom.M.S.W. 

31. Maurice Dale Little, Ph.D. 

32. ManieK.Stanfield,Ph.D. 

33. Jeanette Laguaite, Ph.D. 

34. Charles E. Linke, Ph.D. 

35. Frederick Lee, M.D. 

36. H.W.K. Batson,M.D. 

37. James Dowling, M.D. 

38. Charles Dunlao, M.D. 

39. Jeffrey Peter Ellison, M.D., Ch.B. 

40. Hannahs. Woody, M.D. 

41. Norman C. Woody, M.D. 

42. Khrishnan B. Chandran, D.Sc. 

43. Mary Frances Argus, Ph.D. 

44. Norman R. Kreisman, Ph.D. 

45. JorgenU. Schlegel,M.D. 

46. Melanie Ehrlich, Ph.D. 

47. Dr. Larry P. Feigen 

48. Paul Joiner, Ph.D. 

49. Joseph Pisano, Ph.D. 

50. William D.Postell, Jr., M.S. 










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by Michael Katz 





, The drama, so long as it continues 
to express poetry is as a prismatic 
and many-sided mirror whicii collects 
y;htest rays of human nature 

I reproduces them from 
f simplicity l>t|iiese elementary forms, 
^and touches themSj^th majesty and heauty, 
[■multiplies all tlvat it reflects, 
endows it with t^e power of propogating 
its likewRETievfttit may fall. 

A Defense of Poetry 
Percy Bysshe Shelley 
The cycle of steady growth, sudden collapse 
and promised rejuvenation of theatre at Tu- 
lane is a refraction of the social and academic 
evolution of the entire university over the 
past century. Shifts in taste, attitude, prior- 
ity, affluence, and policy within the develop- 
ment of Tulane University are reflected in the 
chronicle of the school's changing dramatic 
activity. 1975 brings the theatre at Tulane to 
the threshold of a poj^lflially Saturnian 
epoch. May this bg^||lre for the rest of the 
liversity. TW|^'^3^fiia at Tulane is ready to 
"l^gaiii^^^f^r^^rff^'Ssa leader within the aca- 
^fr^^&trical community. Its faculty is de- 
^^jajJpiJHiSpfrration within the close fratern- 
Tt^it academic theatres. Its graduates are 
JQHfljng increased success in both scholastic 
jj^ie^ional theatre. For the past two 
j,?ar^the Tulane Theatre Department has 
hosjj^d the regional auditions for a league of 
^jjy^igjoas institutions offering post graduate 
work in professional dramatic training. Last 
year it helped coordinate the Tulane Drama 

Since the grand exodus of 1967, the theatre 
at Tulane has fought to regain a semblance of 
its former pride and position. It is now be- 
ginning to win the struggle. But, is the univer- 
sity now capable of allowing the dramatic 
arts to step across the threshold of new prom- 
inence? Is the new administration doomed to 
Jhe same mistakes as did the old? Will 
ermitted to again fall on its face 
at tHB^BftinnH^scendancv? The future of Tu- 
lane Univfei^it^n^te is merely one shadow 
from the blurt^ed proj^S||fljjiof the entire uni- 
versity. Can either surviv^Knancially? Per- 
haps a look backwards can offer Tulane and 
its theatre a clue towards achieving a great- 
ness which it deserved ten years ago. 

A Brief ChronicJe 
The first record of any organized dramatic 
activity on campus is a roster of the "Tulane 
Dramatic Club" of 1895-1896 published in the 
first issue of the Jambalaya in 1896. Thus, un- 
til 1937, all amateur theatrics at Tulane were 
the products of student organizations. And the 
students most consistently interested in the 
stage were, of course, the lovely young belles 
of the college of Sophie Newcomb. From 1899 
until the middle of the 1920's, the "Newcomb 
Dramatic Club" was the only permanent 
theatrical organization on the Tulane campus. 

The first lasting male dramatic organization was the 
"Tulane Dramatic Society" of 1922. With implications 
more than prophetic, the club split in 1925 over parli- 
amentary procedures into the "Tulane Dramatic 
Guild" and the "Tulane Dramatic Society". The first 
recurring motif: politics disrupts a healthy interest in 
the dramatic arts at Tulane. 

In 1935 not only did the students squash the civil 
war, but the men of Tulane finally managed to fuse 
with the women of Newcomb, giving birth to the "Tu- 
lane University Players." This, in turn, set the stage 
for the first quantum leap in organized dramatics at 

From its inception, Tulane theatre found little dif- 
ficulty in recruiting both faculty and students in its 
expanding dramatic curriculum. The splinters in the 
feet of those anxious to tread to boards, however, 
was that there were hardly any boards convenient for 
treading. The second recurring theme in the rise and 
fall of Tulane dramatics is the lack of adequate facili- 
ties. Until 1953, productions were rehearsed in lo- 
cations with such exotic names as "the crypt" in the 
basement of Newcomb Hall, the St. Charles Hotel, 
the Carrollton Avenue Baptist Church, and the "Y- 
hut." And, when the music department wasn't using 
it, the theatre staged productions at Dixon Hall. Pos- 
sibly from frustration over no place to call home, Dr. 
Lippman, a faculty member of the Theatre and En- 
glish departments, decided to affiliate Tulane theatre 

with LePetit Theatre du Vieux Carre during the 1947- 
1948 season. The inconvenience of distance and the 
reduced chances of students securing important roles 
soon put an end to this long-distance romance. 

After a new faculty director named Paul Hosteller 
produced a few plays in the dingy workshop located 
under the stands of the defunct football stadium, the 
university decided to convert the space into a perma- 
nent proscenium playhouse in 1953. This facility is 
still used today under the auspicious title of the Phoe- 
nix Playhouse, a name optimistically bestowed upon 
it after 1967. Only seven years raced by before Tulane 
decided to offer the drama department another of- 
fice. The next building provided the department with 
its first permanent classrooms, workshop, costume 
shop, and offices. In 1960, the old Bruff Commons 
Cafeteria was converted into an arena theatre. Ap- 
propriately enough, the first play performed at the 
new modest theatre was Waiting for Godot. It was not 
a smash hit in 1960. Thus, the two overused facilities 
for theatrical productions available to Tulane stu- 
dents of the dramatic arts are presently a converted 
football locker room and a renovated cafeteria. Im- 
pressive, isn't it? 

The culmination of academic prominence for the 
theatre at Tulane began in 1958. Dr. Robert Corrigan 
was hired as a new faculty member by Tulane. He 
brought with him the concept of preceding each ma- 
jor theatrical production with a lecture by an eminent 


dramatic scholar. Corrigan also brought the Carleton 
Drama Review to Tulane. Those monographs deliver- 
ed by invited scholars were compiled in a new publi- 
cation called the TuJane Drama Review. During the 
next ten years, it became one of the most respected 
and innovative theatre journals in the United States. 
Also within this decade, the Tulane Theatre Depart- 
ment educated and employed some of the men that 
directly influenced the completion of American Ed- 
ucational theatre today. Thirty years after Dr. Mon- 
roe Lippman instituted two courses in theatre within 
Tulane's department of English, Tulane's Theatre 
Department was world renowned. 

What happened? What had been accomplished in 
print the faculty wished to put on the stage. The motif 
of second rate facilities returned. Also that old demon 
politics came back to haunt the halls of the old cafe- 
teria. The university was not rolling in cash in 1967. 
A few years prior to this time, a good portion of im- 
pressive English faculty had departed the Gothic 
halls of St. Charles Avenue because of inadequate 
monetary support. A similar situation saw the archi- 
tecture department transplanted. Still, Tulane made 
plans for building improvements. Learning this, the 
theatre faculty, with laurels in hand demanded con- 
sideration for a home to augment the two overused 
converts. The administration had priorities. Theatre 
was not one of them. Richard Scheckner, the new ed- 

itor of the flourishing "T.D.R.," Dr. Lippman, and the 
rest of the faculty left for more receptive and sup- 
portive educational institutions. In the fall of 1967, 
the Tulane Drama Review changed its name to The 
Drama Review. 

A Biased Conclusion 
History doesn't repeat itself; the people who talk 
about it do. The years from 1967 to 1974 were ones of 
interrupted rejuvenation. Political power plays with- 
in the Theatre Department's administration often 
hampered its renewed vigor. Student polarization 
based upon personality and philosophical clashes 
also stunted its progress. And yet all these destruc- 
tive tendencies, usually attributed to the revolution- 
ary impatience of the late 1960's and early 1970's, could 
not stop Tulane's dramatic establishment from prog- 

The university now has the opportunity to correct 
the blunders of 1967. If it throws its support in the 
direction of one or two academic disciplines that 
possess the potential to bring prestige and a returned 
prosperity to this institution, Tulane can survive. One 
perfect investment would be its Theatre Department. 
The Dramatic Arts of Tulane University are the most 
visibly promising priority the new administration can 
support. And with its precarious financial future, 
Tulane must make even its lowest priorities count. 


by Henrik Ibsen unh»™>, Th.^,,. 

8:00 pm Ticket Information : 8656204 Arena Ttieatre 

pteeentod by Tularte ^^/"^f" 7—1'^ 





I^' RICI 1/NRDSF£R1DAN ■ MV 14-17 




febmary 27 thpj march 9 tulane arena theatre 8Dm 
presentea by tulane university theatre ta 8656204 





Madelaine Adams 
Dale Allen 
Mark Alexander 
Steve Benzell 
Pam Burton 
Michael Britt 
Diane Castleneuva 
Stephanie Cochran 
Sharon Conyer 
Barry Corum 
Susan Csillagi 
Stella Curtis 
Bill Dorris 
Georgia Dupre 
Amy Dyer 
Randy Falk 
Dixie Fields 
Pat Galloway 
Jim Goodwin 
Clark Hancock 
Adee Heehe 

Lucinda Huffman 
Heidi Junius 
Michael Katz 
Andi Kislan 
Will Leckie 
Patrick Lee 
Abbe Levin 
Gary Leviton 
Ken Lowstetter 
Julie Martin 
Fred Mayer 
Mary Anne Meadows 
Trish Meginniss 
Bernie Messar 
Frank Moon 
Peggy Moss 
Bob Newman 
Rosemary Ozanne 
Richard Paddor 
Robert Paddor 

Kathy Paul 

Henrietta Perkinson 

Pam Poole 

Greg Ptacek 

Claire Richardson 

Mark Robinson 

Eric Sarver 

Mike Siegler 

Mike Sullivan 

Linda Lee Stump 

Bob Swasey 

Marcia Tietgen 

Gemi Todd 

Mary Beth VanOehsen 

Claudia Vasilovik 

Peter Webb 

Wynne West 

Frank Wilson 

Julie Yuspeh 


Tulane University Theatre 


Calvin Hill 
Dallas Cowboys 

William Manchester 

Jim McKay 
ABC Sportscaster 

Henry Duncombe 
V.P., General Motors 

Jacob Javits 
Senator, New York 

A. J. Meigs 
Prof, of Economics, 
Claremont College 



by Gerald Snare 
It is somehow amazing that twenty different panelists in five programs on five 
separate subjects should in a variety of ways address themselves to the same 
problem: the myth of the American Dream. A New American Dream, as the dis- 
cussions gave it shape, seems largely the Old one tattered and patched with new- 
er attitudes which are, oddly, mythic in their own way. The DIRECTION staff 
had a dream, equally tenuous though slightly different. They dreamt that such a 
variety of views should somehow cohere. The dream came true. Whether it was 
Calvin Hill debunking the myth of the sports hero, or Lawrence Altman remind- 
ing us that "the old family doc" does not really give the best health care, we all 
discovered that the old comfortable assumptions were not so comfortable any- 



Jim McKay began prophetically. He had an in- 
formal ease about nim and a quiet enthusiasm 
for sports' peculiar kind of heroism. His manner 
itself accentuated a dilemma everyone spoke of 
in the course of the evening: he had, after all, 
reported the balletic excitement of Olga Korbutt 
and the tragedy at Munich during the same week 
of the Olympics. Which was this greatest of all 
sports gatherings, a triumph of brotherly com- 
petition or a high-priced chauvinistic extrava- 
ganza? The answer didn't come easily. McKay 
wondered which sports experience we would 
really prefer, the calm and terribly British 
sportsmanship of the London to Brighton antique 
auto race, witnessed by more than a million 
people, or the "dim and sordid view" of 21st Cen- 
tury sport depicted in a new ABC special, "Roller 
Ball," where the object of the game is the de- 
struction of its participants. Calvin Hill, with a 
manner which belied nis muscular frame, took 
up another dilemma. "Whan we see sports per- 
sonalities," he said, "it bothers us to find they're 
human." In what amounted to a plea, he compar- 
ed the"pampered, amoral" super-stud image of 
the football player to the flowed reality of his hu- 
manness, something of the same distinction 
Bruce Ogilvie noted in describing the sport-hero 
as an essentially isolated man, trapped by the 
myth of his own success. The comfortable myths 
took a beating with Ogilvie's disquieting analy- 
sis: Does sport help you with your manhood? 
No. Does sport competition produce more re- 
sponsible citizens? No. Does sport cultivate 
honesty? No. Does sport release in an accepta- 
ble way our innate aggression? No, it exacer- 
bates it. We began to wonder about the value of 
the whole enterprise. But Patsy Neal, in her 


countryish sincerity, redeemed competition 
as an "individual happening," a deeply personal 
experience. Even so, tnat valuable part of sport 
was seen to suffer with a change in attitude — 
the demand to win. She descrioed the effects of 
the new emphasis on women's sports as both 
boon and bane. The element of play soon disap- 
pears when teams must win, and winning costs — 
money for recruiting, money for athletic scholar- 
ships, money for travel, money for television. 
The old vision of sport as a part of the college 
educational experience will soon have to accom- 
modate itself to the harder realities of hits cost 
and to the suspicion that college athletes are not 
drawn into academic life but alienated from it. 
Roone Arledge readily admitted that he had a 
hand in the dilemma as President of ABC Sports: 
"We have made a huge mountain out of sports." 
Citing a hundred-fold increase in his own tele- 
vision budget for sports over the past fifteen 
years, he gave his own assessment of a disquiet- 
ing problem. It is true, he said, that sponsors 
want the best teams — one could smell money in 
the air. But, he enthused, the television money 
keeps many sports alive and encourages inter- 
national rapport. There were anecdotes about 
Olga Korbutt, about Averill Harriman and Ni- 
kita Kruschev hugging each other as Valery 
Brumel broke the world high jump record in 
Moscow, about the American ping-pong team in 
China. But we had the sense througn the discus- 
sion that the dreamy myths had given way to an 
amiable, though tough-minded, apprehension of 
the realities. Perhaps that's what Ogilvie meant 
to cultivate when he said, breathing health and 
witty confidence, that sport is essentially a re- 
flection of the value system of our society. 


When Lawrence Altman began with a series of ques- 
tions, one could sense that any answers might be 
problematic. They were. John Veneman said as 
much: "It is a mistake to think there is A Solution to 
health care problems." The problems are essentially 
political, he opined, and political problems are set- 
tled, not solved. The evening's discussion seemed to 
bear out the vexing rationality of Veneman's point of 
view; indeed, the settlements proposed depended 
wholly on the politics and social view of the proposer. 
Malcolm Todd, President of the AMA, opted, perhaps 
predictably, for the statusquo. Veneman was skepti- 
cal of government meddling with private enterprise. 
And even Ernest Saward, a champion of Health 
Maintenance Organizations, thought that competition 
would produce a more organized health care system 
than government could. Only Jesse Steinfeld, who 
was clearly outnumbered, would opt for the Ken- 
nedy-Korman Bill and suggest that government might 
help more than it hindered our present medical prog- 
ress. Yet even with his quietly angry statement that 
the "mechanism for payment has organized our 
heahh system," his real bogey-man turned out to be 
the American lifestyle. Todd chimed in: Society has 
failed to provide much of what is necessary in health 




care. Saward agreed in observing that health 
services change only when there is social change. 
One could sense the panelists diplomatically 
searching for a kind of settlement in vast ab- 
straction. While everyone seemed to agree that 
costs were high, the argument turned to who 
should do something about it. The government 
clearly took the worst of it, as we heard the vir- 
tues of private competition generally extolled. 
But if the panel preferred to let the profession 
heal itself, one was left to wonder if that opin- 
ion, like so many others offered during the week, 
was also based upon a myth. Altman knew the 
"old family doc" was not a Marcus Welby, M.D. 
And Steinfeld knew that "the emergency room 
is the place for the family physician" for one of 
every five American families. Our assumptions 
about who gives health care, who deserves it, 
and who pays for it became somehow less as- 
sured. And while there were specific proposals, 
especially by Steinfeld, the discussion led back 
to the questions Altman had first put. There was 
one clear answer, however, and it was the same 
as Ogilvie had given the previous night: health 
care systems reflect the different values of the 
country and so do the political medicines offer- 
ed to cure their ills. Perhaps the over-concilia- 
tory tone of the discussion was, after all, precise- 
ly the attitude necessary for settlement. The con- 
fident demand for positive answers had itself 
become disquieting by the end of the evening. 



Where there may have been tacit agreement 
among the discussants on health care, there 
was mostly disagreement among the panel- 
ists on the economy. And the disagreements 
went deeper than disparate opinions. One 
had only to look at the demeanor of the 
panel: Henry Reuss, perpetually smiling 
or grimacing (one could scarcely tell which), 
confident, ever quarrelous in debate, ever 
adopting that sense of political moderation 
that quiets a disagreement without really 
settling it; Henry Duncombe, aloof and re- 
served, assuming the unassailable position 
of a quiet and reasoned response to the noise 
of tax reform; Leonard Woodcock, with the 
reserved agitation of one used to several 
generations of labor wars; and Herbert 
Stein, a professorial politician, urbanely 
witty, able to quash an argument with a deft 
turn of the hand. Over such demonstrable 
disparities in outlook and deportment, the 
animated and chatty A. J. Meigs had to pre- 
side. The discussion began quietly enough 



through some brief opening remarks before 
the sparks flew: Reuss presented a panoply 
of Congressional possibilities; Duncombe 
preferred the virtues of self-reliance to gov- 
ernmental problem solving; Woodcock re- 
minded Duncombe the government had fed, 
not eaten, private profits; and Stein ob- 
served the flat economic ignorance of 
Congress. Meigs leaned back. The sides had 
been drawn. 

After Duncombe had conjured up the 
avaricious spectre of federal controls. Wood- 
cock remonstrated with "Why are you al- 
ways trying to scare us?" Stein's deft hand 
came up and turned Woodcock's agitation 
with a witty remark. To the complaints of 
Reuss and Woodcock of the increased tax 
burden on the lower 80% of Americans and 
less to the upper 20%, Duncombe went back 
to blame Washington with a "runaway ex- 

pansion" of government demands and of its 
appetite for a greater portion of tax money. 

After the fire came the conciliation. Stein 
supported the free-market system and want- 
ed Congress to support it. Reuss, less than 
willing to slaughter the sacred cow, agreed. 
Even Stein and Woodcock approached har- 
mony when they agreed on the dangers of 
short-sighted and quickly conceived solu- 
tions to the long-term problems of inflation 
and recession. There was, then, something of 
a settlement, as inspecific as it was, but no 

One could not help but be annoyed at the 
vagaries of the subject itself and of the un- 
pleasant necessity of a slow-moving com- 
promise. After what was said, only the most 
hardy and optimistic could believe the old 
American myth, that if there's a problem, 
we can solve it. 



John Stoessinger's opening remarks made 
the perfect transition from Economy to For- 
eign Affairs. The problems were here: Kiss- 
inger, Indochina, the Middle East, detente, 
NATO. But in the place of settled answer, 
Stoessinger gave us a kind of warning: in 
foreign policy decisions, the questions never 
deal witn right and wrong, but with right and 
right and wrong and wrong. In what could be 
scarcely more unsettling, we were cautioned 
to empathize with the problems rather than 
to expect clear and workable solutions. The 
practical man of strong opinions was in for 

a time of it this night. 
The note was thus sounded. And Stoessing- 
er, with a flare for drama, heralded the new 
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Oil, In- 
flation, Famine, and Population. Perhaps 
only Jacob Javits, with the practical hand of 
the politician, would be able to deal with 
such a colossal vision in less than apocalyp- 
tic terms. He spoke about Congress assert- 
ing its powers in foreign policy decisions — 
the scope was comfortably limited. But Ar- 
naud de Bourchgrave and Hans Morganthau 
saw farther. For de Bourchgrave, one cannot 
afford to deal with an apocalypse without a 
fundamental change in attitude. And Mor- 
ganthau, a little more pointedly, decried the 
Metternichian attitude of America's constant 
support of the world status-quo. To him, the 


U.S. is always on the wrong side of history. 
So the direction was established and the 
specifics of world policy were to be discuss- 
ed in this context. 

Yet within the semi-accord about the 
scope of the discussion, there was fiery dis- 
cord about the particulars, especially Cam- 
bodia and Israel. De Bourchgrave contended 
that as all foreign policy is interlinked, the 
abandonment of Cambodia would surely 
result in a loss of confidence in U.S. policy 
elsewhere. Stoessinger and Javits saw the 
same. But Morganthau damned the enter- 
prise. The fire soon got hotter. De Bourch- 
grave began quietly enough, in his intense 
and somewhat opinionated way, to report 
that Arab leaders, principally Sadat and 
Assad, admitted to him in private that they 
didn't really care to dismantle Israel. The 
quiet suggestion brought a warm reply. Mor- 
ganthau, with the skepticism of his years, 
pointedly suggested tne public and private 
declarations of these men were at odds, won- 
dering where they might be inclined to lie 
more, in public or in private, or in both 
places. Tne audience laughed. De Bourch- 
grave didn't. He wondered if Morganthau 
had traveled in the Arab world recently. 
Morganthau allowed as how "some Jews 
take more chances than other Jews." He was 
convinced that the ancient animosity of the 
two peoples was beyond repair. De Bourch- 
grave demurred. 

But while this interchange stirred the 
audience and panelists the most, the final 
statements, this time in agreement, should 
have struck more ominously. When Javits 
suggested that in this new world declarations 
of war are passe, he had really touched on a 
central issue which both Morganthau and 
William Manchester, who concluded the 
series the next night, saw as the most cru- 
cial. National governments have not been 
able to face, let alone solve, the problems 
visualized in Stoessinger's Four Horsemen. 
When Morganthau thus declared that the 
nation state as a principal of political or- 
ganization is obsolete, panelists and audi- 
ence were silent. One could not escape the 
feeling that we were all being drawn again 
into that vast historical and apocalyptic con- 
text which began the evening. The specific 
proposals, and there were several offered, 
seemed finally rather too confined to the 
events of the past several weeks, almost too 
mutable to be very effective. And one could 
finally understand what Stoessinger meant 
when he asked us to empathize with the 
problems, to feel that curious anxiety over 
choosing between right and right and wrong 
and wrong. 



William Manchester summed it up. It seemed as 

if he had heard the dilemmas, the unanswered 

and unanswerable questions, the myths, and the 

anxieties of the previous evenings. He had 

thought over a whole spectrum of opinion in a 

comprehensive way. He had reflected. And in 

his undramatic way, he tried to communicate the 

inherent contradictions of our recent past with 

his wordsmanship. One had to listen to the craft 

of the man. 
Perhaps his quotation from Henry Adams was 
the point of his reflection: "The greatest chal- 
lenge to the United States is the velocity of its 
history." We are, Manchester noted, the only na- 
tion to equate this high speed change with prog- 
ress. And this satisfaction at progressiveness 
has done a great deal to foster a curious kind of 
delight in the rejection of nationalism and iso- 
lationism: we were reminded of transnational 
corporations, of our continuing support for the 
United Nations, and of the nature of American 
foreign policy in which, as de Bourchgrave re- 
marked the previous evening, decisions about 
any one country inevitably affect other countries. 


And yet, Manchester went on, this progres- 
sive attitude, this sense of "chronological 
snobbery," ironically has likewise fostered a 
chauvinistic nationalism in the nations of the 
Third World, even in the "archaic national 
tribalism" of the U.N. The ironies and con- 
tradictions compounded as the evening went 
on. We knew what Manchester meant about 
the "bright star of technological promise 
tracked by the dark star of global destruc- 

He paused. The inherent contradictions in 
our sense of progress are, perhaps, a good 
index to what he called the American Vis- 
ion: an open society, sanctifying the right of 
the individual to be different, "suffering 
dissent to the last limit of sufferability." But 
the American Dream, like progress, has two 
sides to it. While we can contemplate with 
pleasure the legacy of openness — mobility, 
a passion for egalitarianism, a system sus- 
ceptible to change from within — we can al- 
so observe the other legacies, with regret — 
violence, the loss of personal privacy, the 
occasional demagogue, the vulcanization of 
society. Where American visualize an 

egalitarian society, they also discriminate by 
sex, color, and religion, cultivate a "gen- 
erational apartheid," and exacerbate clea- 
vages. They visualize sex without secrecy 
and guilt, and at the same time open the 
privacy of the bedroom to research. Where 
there is freedom to bear arms, there is also 
the harvest of great, personal violence. 

In his speech, as in all the programs, we 
were constantly pressed to see the American 
Dream not as a fraud, but as a particular, 
partly-real fantasy, where the visions of the 
good are always attended by the realities of 
the bad. Perhaps Manchester was speaking 
for all twenty of his colleagues when he 
said, "If there has to be a Number One, 
America is probably the best." The state- 
ment meant more than met the ear. For in 
the interrogative nature of DIRECTION, 
we had, at the very least, met with a dia- 
logue which would never allow us the com- 
placency of dogmatism. And that may be the 
better part of the New American Dream. 

Brian Zipp — Chairman 
Alan Krinzman — Speakers 
Lawrence Doyle — Vice-Chairman 
Caro Uhlmann — Finance 
Doug Hertz 
Peggy Kaufman 

Adee Heebe — Public Relations 
Ernest Back 

Phyllis Karsh — Secretary 
Jennifer Lehmann — Treasurer 
Annamerle Zwitman — Hospitality 
Kenneth Katzoff — Administrative Aide 
Katy Alley — Tickets 
Carol Harkins 

Frank McRoberts — Security 
Lawrence Fleder — Special Projects 
Jeff Turner 
Neil Lichtman 

Kathryn Kahler — Program Editor 
Dr. Gerald Snare — Faculty Advisors 
Dr. Stephen Zeff 












Lamp base and lamp shade, with additional metalwork. 

Pottery base with flower design outlined in black. 

Decorator Esther Huger Elliott. 1901. 


Increasingly prized by museums, collectors and stu- 
dent's of the field, Newcomb Pottery ceramics con- 
sidered to be among the finest of the art pottery pro- 
duced in this country during the span from 1896 to 
1940. In the period when the Arts and Crafts move- 
ment flourished in America, the Newcomb Pottery re- 
ceived a host of awards at various national and inter- 
national expositions. These awards include a bronze 
medal from the 1900 International Exposition in Paris 
and a gold medal award from the Panama Pacific 
Centennial Exposition in San Francisco in 1915. 

The Pottery was a semi-commercial adjunct to the 
Newcomb Art Department. It was the only art pot- 
tery of this era directly associated with a college. 
When the Pottery was begun Newcomb College was a 
scant decade old, and the Art School had been in 
existence for only five years. 

The idea of the Pottery was largely conceived by 
Professor Ellsworth Woodward, then head of the Art 
School. Woodward's ideas were rooted in those of the 
late nineteenth-century Arts and Crafts movement in 
England and America, ideas that focused on the beau- 
ty of hand-crafted objects and the dignity of creative 

Throughout the entire period most of the designs 
were based on the flora and fauna of southern Louisi- 
ana. In some cases the representations were very 
realistic; in others they were abstract and stylized. 
Acacia, camphor berries, crayfish, freesia, jasmine, 
laurel, rice, tobacco flower, willows and wisteria are 
among the many natural forms used as a point of de- 
parture for the designs. Though there was some varia- 
tion in color, the two most favoured colours for the 
body of the vases and pots were a soft green and a 
muted blue. In almost all of the late work the bodies 
of the vessels are glazed a rich, deep, matt blue. 

The earliest designs were usually freely brushed on 
in blue, green and yellow underglaze colours over the 
natural cream colour of the clay. The whole was then 
given a transparent glossy glaze. 

By 1905 most of the designs had become more form- 
al and abstracted, reflecting the taste for bold de- 
signs characterized by the geometric phase of the 
art nouveau. Outlines were defined by incised carved 
lines which were filled with black underglaze. 
Other underglaze colours were used on the deco- 
rated area. The outside body was thus coloured 
and the inside usually remained the colour of the 
clay body. Again, a transparent gloss glaze covered 
the whole. 

In the period 1910-1920 low modeled relief de- 
signs were introduced. These were often very 
naturalistic. It was probably around this time that 
Sadie Irvine introduced the evocative and much- 
beloved "moon and moss" motif. It was around 
1910, too, that matt glazes rather than the glossy 
finishes were introduced. From this time on they 
were used almost exclusively. The underglaze 
colours were sponged on, often giving a soft stip- 
pled effect. 

Coffee pot with incised abstract tree or floral design, 
matt grey-blue glaze. Decorator unknown, Joseph 

Meyer potter. 1905-1915. 


Vase, painted design of flowers, 
jonquils, of colored glazes with 
glossy overglaze. Decorator Amelie 
Roman, potter Joseph Meyer. 

Plate, painted design of flowers, 

probably violets. One of the earliest 

pieces of the pottery collection. 

Decorator Katherine Kopman. 1895. 



By the mid-twenties, and into the nineleen-thir- 
ties, some of the designs again were more abstract, 
keeping step with the taste for the "moderne". 
Some designs have the faceted and syncopated 
feeling of Art Deco. In the late twenties and early 
thirties some of the pieces continued to be modeled 
in low relief, but these were left uncoloured. 

Several of the people who had been responsible 
for the direction of the Pottery had retired by 1940, 
and few students trained in the Art Department 
were joining the Pottery. New and different ideas 
on the education of artists were being introduced, 
and it was decided to close the Pottery. 

For a time, the Newcomb Guild was set up to pro- 
vide an outlet for both student and faculty work. 
However, unlike Newcomb Pottery, the pieces of 
Newcomb Guild pottery were each the work of a 
single artist from beginning to end. Thus, the clos- 
ing of the Pottery effectively marked the cessation 
of production of the highly distinguished New- 
comb ceramics. 

(As a note of interest, the college's collection of 
Newcomb pottery is currently on display in the Art 

Jessie Poesch 

'*^*»^-#'V,. ^ **. 

Vase with abstract design in relief borrowed from 
fireplace design in an "old Spanish mansion". Matt 
blue glaze. Decorator Anna Francis Simpson, potter 
Joseph Meyer. 1920. Small vase with abstract design, 
blue matt glaze. Decorator Sadie Irvine. 1920. 

Majestic Maya stucco head from Honduras. 




Tulane's Middle American Research Institute cele- 
brated its 50th anniversary this year. Founded in 
1924 through a gift by the late Samuel Zemurray, a 
member of the University's Board of Administrators 
and President of the United Fruit Company, it is in- 
ternationally known for its impressive record of re- 
search and publications on the humanities and social 
sciences of Mexico and Central America. It has sent 
many major archaeological and ethnological expedi- 
tions into the field and has sponsored field research 
as well as archival and library studies in anthropol- 
ogy, sociology, history, economics, political science, 
geography, linguistics, art history, and language and 
literature. Many Tulane students, along with students 
from other universities, have taken part in these 

The first expedition, under the direction of the late 
Frans Blom, accompanied by Oliver LaFarge, later a 
Pulitzer Prize novelist, covered 1200 miles of travel 
by foot, horseback, and sloop from Vera Cruz to the 
Tuxtla Mountains, to the later famous ancient site of 
La Venta, then to ruins in Chiapas and across the 
rainforests into Guatemala. The trip is described in 
a Middle American Research Institute volume work. 
Tribes and Temples. The second expedition, in 1928, 
traversed nearly 1500 miles through highland and 
jungle, following unmapped trails from southern 
Mexico across tadorthern Guatemala and ending in 
northern Yucatan. A Tulane student, Webster Mc- 
Bryde, who later became a famous geographer, and to 
whom Tulane in recent years awarded an honorary 
degree, took part in this trek. This was long before 
landing strips for aircraft or roads had been built in 
the area; the expedition lived completely off the 
land — hunting, fishing, and trading with the Indians 
— and they had almost daily adventures. 

In 1930, Mr. Blom took two Tulane students in 
architecture with him on an expedition to Uxmal, 
Yucatan, where they made drawings, photographs, 
and stucco casts of an ancient building to be repro- 
duced as a museum at the Century of Progress Expo- 
sition in Chicago. 

On my return from the armed forces, we began to 
plan another expedition, and in 1947, accompanied 
by Ray Marino, a Tulane undergraduate in geology, 
carried on excavations at Zacualpa in the remote 
highlands of Guatemala. Ray and I lived in a dirt- 
floored, windowless Indian hut in a valley inhabit- 
ed by about eleven Indian families — without run- 
ning water, plumbing, or electricity — boiling our 
water and for a long time cooking our own meals, 
washing our clothes, and keeping house in addition 
to our daily excavations from sunrise to late after- 
noon. We dug in an ancient city that had been occu- 
pied for 15 centuries — from about 500 B.C. to the 
sixteenth century A.D. — and established the first 
archaeological chronology for this area of the high- 
lands. Later we moved to Utatlan, the ancient capital 
of the prehistoric Quiche kingdom in Guatemala, and 
excavated there to fill out the archaeological record 
up to the time of Alvarado's Spanish conquest. Some 
of our experiences are recorded in a book, They 
Found the Buried Cities. 

In the 1950's excavations were begun at the ruins 
of Dzibilchaltun in northern Yucatan, under the di- 
rection of the late Dr. E. Wyllys Andrews IV, who had 
joined the staff of the Institute. The project was co- 
sponsored by the National Geographic Society and 
supported by generous grants from the National Sci- 

ence Foundation and the American Philosophical 
Society. Digging continued for 15 years and revealed 
the largest and longest-inhabited city ever discovered 
in this region — occupied from long before Christ up 
to the Spanish conquest in the 16th century. They 
included extensive scuba diving in a cenote, or nat- 
ural well, 145 feet deep in the center of the site, and 
excavation, repair, and restoration of the now- 
famous Temple of the Seven Dolls. 

In 1968 excavations were shifted to the rainforest of 
Southern Campeche in order to link the Yucatan rec- 
ord with that of the prehistoric Maya in Guatemala. 
Many Tulane students in anthropology, together with 
students from other universities around the country, 
took part in the explorations and excavations. Among 
the exciting discoveries in Yucatan was that of the 
Cave of Balankanche, where in long-sealed caverns 
deep underground the field staff recorded an archae- 
ological shrine of almost a thousand years ago, and 
watched a native Indian ceremony to placate the 
Rain God to whom the shrine had been dedicated. 

Last year and this year we have been excavating 
in the semi-desert state of Jutiapa in Guatemala. 
These investigations are still under way. This is hot, 
dry, cactus, cowboy country, where everyone rides a 
horse and carries a lasso; it has been, until now, 
almost unexplored archaeologically. 

M. A.R.I, has published or has in press 41 volumes 
of research reports, plus the 16 volumes of the en- 
cyclopedic Handbook of Middle American Indians, 
which it assembled and edited for the University of 
Texas Press. 

Under Blom's directorship, and with the aid of a 
grant from the Rockefeller Foundation, the Institute 
assembled an excellent library of Middle American 
books and documents. Since 1942, aided by additional 
grants from the Carnegie Corporation and the Ford 
Foundation, this library has now been expanded to 
include all of Latin America in what is now part of the 
Howard-Tilton Library at Tulane; it is one of the best 
collections of its kind in the world. 

The Institute also maintains a small museum gal- 
lery on the fourth floor of Dinwiddle Hall, and study 
collections of many thousands of native Indian 
archaeological artifacts, modern Indian costumes, 
and other specimens of arts and crafts from many 
parts of the world. These are used constantly by Tu- 
lane classes in archaeology, anthropology, and prim- 
itive art. In spite of the fact that there is usually at 
least one article about it in the Hullabaloo every year, 
relatively few Tulane students even know of the mu- 
seum gallery or the Institute's program. Seniors and 
alumni who happen to wander in by accident are 
constantly expressing amazement that in all their 
years at Tulane they did not know of the Institute's 
existence. I hope that this short message will help to 
correct that situation, and I cordially invite all Tulane 
students and their families and friends to visit our 
museum gallery. 

I retire at the end of this year. My successor, Dr. 
E. Wyllys Andrews V of Northern Illinois University, 
is a veteran of many years of archaeological field- 
work in Yucatan, Guatemala, El Salvador, and vari- 
ous parts of the United States. For three years he 
was Director of our program of research in Yucatan 
and Campeche, Mexico. I am sure that he will wel- 
come student participation in future expeditions. 

Robert Wauchope 

Plaster cast relief from site of Palenque, Mexico 
— Maya culture. 

Native Maya costume from Guatemala. 


Ceramic urn from Oaxaca, Mexico — Zapotec culture. 

Reconstruction of tomb at Comalcalco — Maya 




V T 








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Bactnda Haffman< 






!^ Reverly Rriggs 




By Nate Lee 

Imagine you are an athlete. If you have gotten this 
far, now imagine you are an athlete at Tulane Univer- 
sity in Intercollegiate Athletics. There is a fond term- 
inology for your kind. You are a jock. This rather 
creative, metaphorical, nomenclature can have dif- 
ferent connotations. The most common of which is 
associated with Desenex. You are used by the school 
or a certain body therein, under their own justifica- 
tion, as a promotion for the school and a means of 
keeping alumni close to their alma mater. You are 
made to sleep, work and eat together with the other 
jocks, and are blamed, just as a racial minority, or 
any other group subject to prejudice, for the actions 
of those associated with you as jocks. The mere as- 
sociation is a loss of your own identity as a person, 
student, or individual, but you are used to that, being 
part of the team, the machine. You are sometimes 
paid to attend school so you can entertain its students 
with your weekend gladiatorial enterprises. If you 
are lucky and perform well, you might get thumbs up 
and you will be able to live . . . until next week. 

Now imagine you are a student, not participating in 
Intercollegiate Athletics. You might be wondering 
how you ever got tickets for the BIG ONE with LSU. 
You are probably disappointed that the same clique 
of people up there that control athletics, moved your 
football team downtown. And you wonder frequently 
why the club sport which you like to participate in, 
gets so little money compared to the sports which you 

only watch. 

The football team was something like Hurricane 
Carmen. Its overwhelming power was talked about, 
its furious arrival was anticipated anxiously, but all 
that showed up around Tulane was a weak gust of 
wind. A few freshman athletes at the beginning of the 
year received some degree of publicity and a little 
punishment as they took out their pre-game hyper- 
tension a little too emotionally on some students in 
Monroe Hall. This began discussion on abolishing the 
athletic dormitory system and dispersing the athletes 
around campus. 

Instead of the previously held "first come, first 
served" system for distributing tickets to the football 
game with LSU, a new system of using a lottery was 

The move to the Superdome was an issue of contin- 
uous controversy throughout the year. Most of the 
students, did not, do not, and will not want to travel 
down to Poydras Street to watch the Green Wave 
splash around. The move even drew satirical com- 
ment from President Ford. 

Title IX was introduced to the campus. It merely 
stated that Universities must also supply money for 
women's Intercollegiate sports. However, decisions 
weren't made, though as to whether this applied to 
Newcomb and if so, where the money would come 

Intercollegiate athletics came under attack this 
year for the amount spent on them as compared to the 
amount spent on club sports. The 500 students in in- 
tercollegiate athletics receive $2 million while only 
$60,000 goes to the 4000 participants in the intramural 
program. Club sports include canoeing, flying, la- 
crosse, dancing, rugby, soccer, parachuting, and 
sailing, along with various fraternity league sports. 
In most of these club sports, it is not the victory, 
money, or professional future that counts, it is the 
superlative emotional qualities in separating from 
ones' stomach in the flying club's airplanes, or sepa- 
rating from everything in parachuting. The 'thrill' of 
victory is had in the atmosphere of the spirited em- 
biding of the Rugby club's postgame bashes. 

Athletics is like a pair of sneakers. Though they 
were the best you ever had, and made you feel good 
while they lasted, they wore out too soon, and now 
they'll have to go. 







1974 Record 








S.W. Louisiana 








West Virginia 




Air Force 








Georgia Tech 








Boston College 








Louisiana State 





Coming of a 9-2 season with 40 returning lettermen, the first 
win over LSU in 25 years, and a schedule that looked like a laugh- 
er on paper, 1974 was expected to be the year Tulane football 
really made it big. 

But something went wrong along the way. Like the 71 season 
after the Liberty Bowl year, hopes and dreams were dashed by 

The season opener against Ole Miss was postponed due to the 
threat of Hurricane Carmen and was an omen of things to come. 

The Green Wave then reeled up five straight victories over LSU, 
Army, West Virginia, Air Force and the Citadel. 

The Wave was not overpowering in any of these contests. And a 
lack of offensive punch and a defense that was more porous than 
it should have been, quickly appeared. 

But the Greenies were still 5-0, and hope was still present. 

But then on regional television the following week against rival 
Georgia Tech, the loss of the game coupled with the loss of premier 
quarterback Steve Foley started the Wave's slide downward. 

The team went on to lose its remaining six games to Kentucky, 
Boston College, Vanderbilt, LSU, and Old Miss to end Tulane's 
final season in Tulane Stadium with a 5-6 record. 

But there were some bright spots during the season: 

Despite missing four games, Steve Foley ended his brilliant ca- 
reer by becoming Tulane's All-time total offense leader. 

Three Tulane players — Foley, defensive tackle Charlie Hall, 
and defensive back John Washington were picked in the pro draft. 
Rusty Chambers was later signed as a free agent with the Saints. 

And the second half of the Tulane-LSU game was something for 
all Tulane fans to be proud of. Down 21-0 at half, the Wave battled 
back to lose a close 24-22 decision. And the Wave even had a touch- 
down called back that could have made the difference. 

So again, we look to next year. The Green Wave will have to rely 
on youth, especially in the interior line, and someone to fill the 
shoes of Steve Foley. 

But with the Wave moving to the Superdome, with seven home 
games in 1975, hope again rides high. 


1974 Roster 


Steve Foley 


Artie Liuzza 


Howard McNeill 


Nick Anderson 


Johnny Hubbard 


Charles Cline 


Dwight Chretien 


Steve Treuting 


Terry Looney 


Bill Van Manen 


Mike Loftin 


Eddie Price 


Martin Mitchell 


John Washington 


Arthur Green 


Robert Brown 


Jaime Garza 


Tom Fortner 


Kit Bonvillian 


Charles Griffin 


Buddy Gilbert 


Wyatt Washington 


Joe Jacobi 


Bill Kramer 


Mike Keeffe 


Randy Cothran 


Marc Robert 


Brent Baber 


David Falgoust 


David Lee 


Gary Rudick 


Jim Andrews 


David Bordes 


Russell Huber 


Mike Price 


Kenny Quick 


Jeff Smith 


Miles Clements 


Don Lemon 


Rusty Chambers 



Hank Tatje 


George Bauer 


Ed Mikkelsen 


Jim Gueno 


Mark Olivari 


Paul Brock 


Billy Nix 


Cleveland Joseph 


Brian Norwood 


Jay McGrew 


Jack GuUison 


Charles Hall 


Cameron Gaston 


Mike Arthur 


Chuck Lapeyre 


Don Joyce 


Nathan Bell 


Zack Mitchell 


Alan Baker 


Dennis Delaney 


Barry Morris 


Mike Korf 


Alan Zaunbrecher 


Byron Keller 


Brian Bourgeois 


Rick Rutledge 


Darwin Willie 




Harold Villere 


Rene Faucheux 

86 Bryan Alexander 

87 Dick Pryor 

88 Cliff Voltapetti 

89 Blaine Woodf in 

Bennie Eiiender, Head Coach 
Don Jackson, Asst. Coach 
Marvin Hagaman, Asst. Coach 
Oscar Lofton, Frosh Coach 
Joe Jones, Asst. Coach 
Tony Misita, Asst. Coach 
Billy Laird, Asst. Coach 







1^^^ fl 


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1974-75 Record 

Tulane 78 Birmingham Southern . . .63 

Tulane 97 Southwestern Memphis . .59 

Tulane 78 LSU 80 

Tulane 94 Samford 67 

Tulane 82 LSU 84 

Tulane 73 Ole Miss 93 

Tulane 88 Louisiana Tech 65 

Tulane 73 Northeast Louisiana ... .95 

Tulane 84 SMU 80 

Tulane 78 Citadel 57 

Tulane 71 Kansas State 57 

Tulane 85 Southern Mississippi . . .70 

Tulane 76 UNO 61 

Tulane 81 Illinois 69 

Tulane 74 Ball State 98 

Tulane 100 Southern Mississippi . . .86 

Tulane 96 Southern New Orleans . .69 

Tulane 83 Xavier 63 

Tulane 79 Richmond 80 

Tulane 83 UNO 81 

Tulane 94 Dillard 96 

Tulane 77 Georgia State 68 

Tulane 69 Georgia Tech 74 

Tulane 79 Valparaiso 75 

Tulane 74 Stetson 99 

Tulane 65 Marquette 73 

r ^ fi 

. 'OM 







Tulane basketball is on the move — upward. 

1974-1975 was Tulane's first winning season in bas- 
ketball since '66-'67, and its best record since the '56- 
'57 campaign. 

Led by Mr. Basketball at Tulane, Phil Hicks, coach 
Charlie Moir's second season at Tulane was an excit- 
ing as well as successful one. 

After a slow 4-4 start, the team picked up steam and 
won six straight games to stretch its record to 10-5. 

The Wave cooled off a little and won 6 of their last 
11 games to end the season with a 16-10 record. 

Included in this eventful season were two wins 
over crosstown rivals UNO who went on to the NCAA 
college division finals. 

Phil Hicks led the team in scoring with a 22.7 av- 

erage, and in rebounding with a 12.4 per game ef- 
fort. Hicks scored in double figures in every game of 
the season. 

Hicks ended the season with 1030 career points and 
unless he goes pro, should easily break the all-time 
Tulane record of 1501. 

The future seems bright if Hicks returns. Tulane 
started two freshmen, Pierre Gaudin and Tom Hicks, 
for much of the season and their experience should 
show next year. 

The Wave will lose only one starting senior from 
this year's club, and with returnees like Marty Pren- 
dergast, John Bobzein, and talented junior college 
transfers the Wave has signed, should insure a con- 
tinued winning tradition. 



1974-75 Roster 

10 Tom Hicks 

12 Pierre Gaudin 

14 John Thompson 

15 Marc Mirsky 
20 Tony Beaulieu 

22 Marty Prendergast 

24 John Bobzien 

25 Luther Strange 
30 Paul Yungst 

33 Phil Hicks 

40 Steve Stanley 

42 Richard Purtz 

44 Greg Spannuth 

50 Terry McLean 

Coach Charles Moir 
Assistant Coach Don Brown 
Assistant Coach Johnny Altobello 



-■iaB*is«sk— -,- — *- 









Sprinj; Hill 



Spring Hill 



Western Illinois 



Western Illinois 


Middle Tennessee State 


Middle Tennessee State 





Texas A & M 



Texas A &M 



Texas A & M 



New Haven 





























Carroll College 


Carroll College 


South Alahama 


South Alahama 



Louisiana State 



Southern Mississippi 



New Orleans 


Louisiana State 












Louisiana College 



Louisiana College 



Louisiana College 



New Orleans 



Southern Mississippi 






Led by ace pitcher Steve Mura, the 1975 
Tulane Baseball team finished the season 
with a stellar 24-11 record — the most wins 
by any Tulane baseball team in its history. 

The feat is more notable when you take in- 
to account the fact the Tulane Baseball team 
fielded its first team in 1911. 

First year coach, Joe Brockhoff used the 
right combination of experience and youth 
in guiding the Wave in tnis milestone season. 

Sophomore pitcher, Steve Mura, led the 
way with an overall record of 10-3. This was 
the most wins ever by a Tulane pitcher in 
one season. 

The Wave played probably its toughest 
schedule ever this year. It included three 
games against Southwest Conference cham- 
pion Texas A & M, three games against 
Miami, the number two team in the country 
last year, two games against number 9 rank- 
ed South Alabama, and a pair of games 
against archrival LSU, who went on to win 

the Southeastern Conference champion- 

The Tulane record would have been even 
better, but they lost a total of 6 one-run 
games, LSU (2-1), South Alabama (6-5), 
Texas A & M (10-9), and three unbelievable 
one-run games to Miami (3-2, 9-8, 2-1). 

On the positive side, the Green Wave 
swept the two game series with cross-town 
rival UNO. 

The highlight of the season had to be the 
14-1 shellacking of LSU. The Tigers went on 
to win the SEC and advance to the NCAA 

The Wave also got good performances out 
of John Foto, Barry Butera, R. J. Barrios, John 
Leblanc, Bryan Martiny, David Seay, and 
others all season long. 

This year coach Brockhoff lost some val- 
uable players to graduation, but there 
shoula be enough talented youth left over to 
provide for another fine season. 


~ *siS. -A ^'^-^^m^'^-.-i»tf 

1975 ROSTER 
Jeffrey Alvis 
Chris Barnet 
R. }. Barrios 
Tony Beaulieu 
Barry Butera 
Doug Caldarera 
Neal Comarda 
Ken Cronin 
Vincent De Grouttola 
John Foto 
Jim Gaudet 
Barry Hebert 
John Kuhlman 
John Leblanc 
Joe Liberato 
Mike Loftin 
Bryan Martiny 
Steve Mura 
Ralph Prats 
Steve Pumila 
Mickey Retif 
Marlin Rogers 
Gary Roney 
David Seay 
Mark Spansel 
Frank Steele 
David Zeringue 
Pierre Gaudin 

Joe Brockhoff, Coach 



Brian Beach 

Brian Burke 

William Bower 

James DeLuca 

Benjamin Goslin 

Scott Handler 

John Herlihy 

William Kuhn 

Georges Leblanc 

John C. McPherson 

David O'Leary 

Terrance Owens 

Thomas Perkins 

Michael Reynolds 

Philip Stagg 

James Staten 

Madelyn Treating 

Frederick Wagner 

Constance Walker 

Manager: Debbie Darnell 
Coach: C. Richard Bower 






City Park Tennis Club 
Northwestern State 




New Orleans Tennis Club 
South Alabama 



Western Illinois 
Middle Tennessee 
South Carolina 




Nichols State 



Southeastern Louisiana 
Southern University 
McNeese State 







Mississippi State 
Southern Mississippi 
Northeastern Louisiana 






Final Record 13-5 





A^^ i 

Duane Burley, Coach 
Don Kerr, Coach 
Jeff Smith 
Rob Bunnen 
Davis Henley 
Bob Flippen 
Charles Reed 
Ed Gaskell 
Randy Gregson 
Mark Burnstein 
Bruce Mertz 
'. Steve Buerger 
!m Clarence Rivers, Mgr. 




Jim Hart, Head Coach 

Alan Bartelstein 

Mark Boyce 

Gary Brewster 

Ronald Bubes 

Richard Gunst 

James Joseph 

Herbert List 

Burke Madigan 

Henry Mull 

John Neblett 

Barton Ramsey 

Michael Rodrigue 

- 0^SSa^,;8fc>?*y;'ii.^juV-'-i.*^5fi?-iiS?TS353S . 



John Oelkers, Head Coach 

Keith Alexander 
Nick Anderson 
Jason Collins 
Warren Chandler 
Lenard Culicchia 
David Delgado 
Rohbin Duncan 
Steve Foley 
Phillip Gihbons 
Jon Guben 
Dennis Gordon 
Don Joyce 
Paul Kenul 
Quentin Phillips 
Tom Pond 
Jim Rickard 
Mark Staid 
Tom Stephenson 
James Stoyanoff 
Keith Wolfe 

.^Ulu.v^.^.! V^M^ 




Jerry Jung 

Chris Peragine 

Bob Weber 

Lee Shuman 

Leonard Duncan 

Toby Darden 

Brian Zipp 

Bob LaFrance 

Kurt Weise 

Robin Keefe 

John Garth 

Marion Hollings 

Frank Collins 

Augie Diaz 

Doug Bull 





Joni Anderson 
Adrianne Petit 
Denise Butler 
Christine Nielsen 
Leslie Brupbacher 
Toby Berry 
Don Peterson 
Charlie Calderwood 

Lamar Warmack 
Letch Kline 
Gary Fitzjarrell 
Bob Boese 
Neil Barnes 
Madeline Treating 
Mary Tull 
Sue Ragde 
Denise Downing 






Rix Yard, Head Coach 

David Matasar 

Watts Wacker 

Joe Dirty 

Joe Lee, Co-capt. 

Vic Barbieri 

Jake Aldred 

Phil Nidrie 

Clark Haley 


Mike Mariorenzes 

Paul Paganele 

Andrew Holcombe 

Mark Muller 

Conrad T. Jones 

John Macintosh, Co-capt. 

Phil Rodgers 

Clint Eastwood 

Gary Pruto 

Duncan Davis 

Mark Weiderlight 

Hank Spicer 

Pat Chanell 

Rand Ian 

Denise & Cindy 


.•T;T!.-"l''"g-'Baa iSS^I^i^! 

We would like to extend our deepest appreciation to 
Dr. Rix N. Yard for his efforts as Coach, friend and 
confident to the Tulane Lacrosse Team. Rix Yard has 
opened avenues of growth to all of us by his inspiring 
example of devotion, hard work and fairness. We 
have learned to be winners together, yet, with 
dignity. We have learned to lose together, also. Most 
of all, we have learned to compete with a spirit of 
robust comaraderie which transcends winning and 

Thank You Dr. Yard 

The Departing Members 

of the 75 Tulane Lacrosse Club 



.-ri... --^ 



This year the Tulane Soccer Club fielded two 
soccer teams due to the tremendous interest in soccer 
during the last couple of years. Close to 80 players 
registered with the club, but eventually we had a 
working group of 40 players. The highlight of this 
year's season was the Green Team's victory over 
Georgia Tech in the finals of the SEC soccer classic 
held in Atlanta. 

Tulane held its first annual Spring Soccer Tourna- 
ment this year. The University of Alabama at 
Huntsville won handily but proved that soccer is a 
great player and spectator sport in the South. The 
Tulane Soccer Team wishes the best of luck to some 
departing seniors: D. Diego, J. R. Davis, J. Mclnnis, 
C. Leon, and J. Young. 

J. Bolanos, Capt. 
J. Mclnnes, Capt. 
F. King, Advisor 

Green Team 
L. Pettigru 
J. Bolanos 
M. Gutierrez 

C. Bowers 
A. Parra 
J. Walsch 
S. Troxler 
F. Woll 

D. Diego 

J. Beingolea 

E. Young 
C. Leon 

R. Edwards 

M. Mantese 

J. J. deVidarrauzaga 

J. R. Davis 

BJue Team 

E. Vamvas 
D. Sommer 
M. Nibbolink 
J. de Pond 

J. Young 

C. Pinzon 
J. Mclnnis 
J. Ott 

R. Knight 

F. Stanley 
L. Butler 

D. Dearie 
G. Long 
T. Jobin 
T. Ory 

B. Boutte 
R. Horseley 
L. Linares 



Tyrone Yokum, Capt. 

Jerry Cave 

Jack Adams 

Laird Canby 

Steve Bumbus 

Ken Gutzeit 

Bill Daniels 

Andy Miles 

Ron Quinton 

Jim Richeson 

Bob Preston 

Bill Murphy 

Lynn Parry 

Doug Watkins 

Chuck Collins 

John Tabor 

Vince Dobbs 

John Walsh 

Dave Taylor 

Jim Summerour 

Jim Beskin 

Mike Smith 

Doug Walton 

Randy Wykoff 

Hawkeye Deter 

Bob Duff 

Neal Dunaway 

Ed Sheinis 

Bill Schwartz 


Mitch Woods 

Dan Anderson 

Tad Daniels 

Ray Hunting 

Gary Hahn 

Tom O'Neil 

Mike Warner 

Steve Carroway 

Mark Rowe 











By Scott Wagman 

What would you like to be when you grow up? I can hardly fathom the many times through- 
out my life that I have been confronted with this rather simplistic question. Indeed, the ques- 
tion's ramifications have obscured its intent to the point where the question becomes one not 
of what or when, but if. 

The high school senior entering Tulane experiences the transition of going from top to twit, 
with nary a hope of regaining the stature that immediate post-pubescence offered him. To the 
freshman, Tulane is but a hermetically sealed jar of milk and honey, appearing just as college 
should appear; the professors polished in their specific discipline, the textbooks thick with the 
wisdom of the world, the dorms buzzing with tales of limitless excess and connubial conquest. 
Even the buildings emanate a feeling of truth and knowledge almost challenging to the 
aspiring scholar. 

The sophomore year heralds the inception of a kind of facetious familiarity with one's 
surroundings. The professors are now somewhat less than eloquent, the textbooks thick but 
very expensive, the dorms consumed with more excess of beer, grass and aspirin than the 
favors of a certain friend. The days between tests grow long as the many flights of stairs to 
the fourth floor of Newcomb Hall increasingly grate on one's nerves. 

Enter the junior year, and concomitantly, upperclass status. Status? No, status comes later. 
Meanwhile, back with the pre-meds, pre-laws, pre-business, and pre-generalists, that ever 
important commitment, the major, is becoming ever more tangential to what you used to think 
was your goal in life. You've become quite adept at categorizing the gumbo of professors, 
courses, bars, etc., and rating them on neat scales of one to ten. Of greater concern, you have 
begun to categorize yourself, as the spectre of LSAT, MCAT and GRE tests loom ever larger 
on the horizon. 

The neophyte Tulane Senior senses that he is at the beginning of an end, hopefully an end 
that will lead to new beginnings. The confusingly paradoxical professor, it has been dis- 
covered, seems to feel much less vulnerable arguing over a beer than at the rostrum. Cracks 
have developed in the once seemingly solid walls of the academic structure; priorities that 
were taken for granted now appear misplaced. Ultimately, the naive awe in which the Tulane 
Senior once held his school matures into a more realistic, critical appraisal of university and 
academic life. In many aspects the Tulane Senior bites the loco parental hand that feeds him, 
but it is in no way a malicious bite, just a curious nibble. That the Tulane Senior openly con- 
fronts that which he perceives to be less than right demonstrates that Tulane has fulfilled its 
primary purpose — to sensitize the person to his environment and at least begin to equip him 
to deal with it. 

Regardless of the way in which the Tulane Senior occupies his future, he should be able to 
look back at Tulane and laugh at that which was outrageous, chuckle at that which was per- 
plexing, and smile at all that was significant. 

It can now be seen that the Tulane Senior will never grow up, only out. 


Keith V. Abramson 
Norwalk, Connecticut 
Arts and Sciences 

David V. Adler 
New Orleans 

Michael F. Adoue 
Shreveport, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Mary C. Akers 
Charlotte, North Carolina 

Jay Altmayer 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Tom A. Anderson 
Houston, Texas 

Lloyd J. Arbo, Jr. 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Linda M. Argote 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Daniel S. Ashenberg 
Congers, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Elizabeth A. Asher 
Pineville, Louisiana 

Thomas P. Atkinson 
Montgomery, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Rory B. Babbitt 

South Fallsburgh, New York 

Arts and Sciences 

Neal K. Adler 
Braintree, Mississippi 
Arts and Sciences 

Kate Allen 
Evanston, Illinois 

Ann G. Applegate 
New Orleans 

Mary B. Armstrong 
New Orleans 

Curklin P. Atkins 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Ernest M. Back 
Scarsdale, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

f what a strange nature is knowiedge! /t clings to the mind, when it has once seized on it, like a lichen on the 
rock. The accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of human nature. / had worked hard for nearly 
four years for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I had deprived myself of rest and 
health. / had desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that / had finished . . . 

Keith V. Abramson 
Arts and Sciences 



Kim A. Barkan 
Columbus, Ohio 

George J. Barlow 
New Orleans 

Linda M. Barnes 
New Orleans 

William T. Barry 
Westport, Connecticut 
Arts and Sciences 

Anthony J. Bartlett 
New Orleans 

Ben Bashinski 
Macon, Georgia 
Arts and Sciences 

Richard M.Battaile 
Phoenix, Arizona 
Arts and Sciences 

Richard E. Baudouin 
Harahan, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Tom E. Bax 
New Orleans 

Dalan J.Bayham 
Chalmette, Louisiana 

Mary L. Beck 
Metairie, Louisiana 

John S. Becker 
Jefferson, Louisiana 

James A. Barnes 
Milton, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Jeff Barter 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

New Orleans 

George A. Bauer 
Mount Prospect, Illinois 
Physical Education 

Clifford A. Beaulieu 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Mary H. Beecker 
Dallas, Texas 

s the body is composed of three billion ceJJs, the world is inhabited by so many billions of people, and as one 
malignant cell can destroy three billion others, one madman can annihilate humanity. 
Man is compelled to build. We must never permit him to destroy the world. 

Ben Bashinski 
Arts and Sciences 


Mary Ann Bell 
Clifton, New Jersey 

Paul C. Benesh 
Westport, Connecticut 
Arts and Sciences 

Steven G. Benzell 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Les M. Berenson 
Metairie, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Pamela C. Berton 
Omaha, Nebraska 

Arthur A. Bianchi III 
Crosby, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Debra A. Bislip 
New Orleans 

Thomas T. Bittenbender 
Lake Forest, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Jody L. Blake 

Oak Ridge, Tennessee 


Kitty V. Bliss 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Marc Blumenthal 
Miami, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Elise Bodenheimer 
Anniston, Alabama 

George A. Benner 
Miami, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Andrew S. Berg 
Saint Louis, Missouri 
Arts and Sciences 

Robert F. Bigham 

Rosslyn Farms, Pennsylvania 

Arts and Sciences 

Maud M. Bivona 
New Orleans 

George R. Blue, Jr. 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Richard A. Bodziner 
Savannah, Georgia 
Arts and Sciences 

o be concise: (1) The "rounded" education now has four corners (2) Student government is stili all show and 
no go (3j if more educators stopped being researchers and returned to educating TuJane might be worth the 
money (4) Despite its faults a strong fraternity system can only help Tulane (5) A man who does not know 
a foreign language can never really know his own f6j The Dome is an egg-shaped shaft (7) Never let the 
"right" woman get away, and (8) Tulane 14-LSLf zip sounds as sweet as ever. 

Bob Boese 


Robert L. Boese 
New Orleans 

Tad A. Bogdaa 

Saint Petersburg, Florida 

Arts and Sciences 

Huston F. Boothe 
Chalmette, Louisiana 

Michael E. Botnick 
New Orleans 

John R. Braddock 
Monroe, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Peter K. Bretting 
Belen, New Mexico 
Arts and Sciences 

Beverly E. Briggs 
Houston, Texas 

Elizabeth L. Brigmas 
New Orleans 

Charles Brown 
Dallas, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

David M. Brown 
New Orleans 

Alan Buttekant 
New Orleans 

Kenneth L. Burns 
Glendale, Missouri 

ewspaper Item: 

Girl, 12, Gets Face 

IVo longer do you need to live 

in a dim-lit, mirrorless world. 

Plastic surgeons over the bandaged years 

have managed to give you a face, 

not beautiful, perhaps — 

more concerned with a nose that works 

than one aquiline or pug — 

James F. Booth 
Jackson, Mississippi 
Arts and Sciences 

Ellen Boyle 
Menands, New York 

Ellissa C. Brewster 
Bay Shore, New York 

Thomas K. Brocato 
Alexandria, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Margaret F. Brown 
Jeanerette, Louisiana 

Betty Anne L. Bussoff 

New Orleans 


a face with features all in place 
for secret painting with blue eye 

and loud lipsticks 
as you prepare to ;oin 
the faceless crowd. 

— Grace Beacham Freeman 
Michael Botnick 



Demise M. Butler 
Kingston, Tennessee 

Margaret S. Buzan 
Rockville, Maryland 
Social Work 

Arthur C. Camp 
Ocala, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Philip D. Campbell 
Knoxville, Tennessee 
Arts and Sciences 

Kay E. Capella 
New Orleans 

Vincent Caracci 
Jackson, Mississippi 

Thomas C. Carmody 
Westfield, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Rivers K. Carpenter 
New Orleans 
Social Work 

Clyde E. Carroll 
New Orleans 

William F. Carroll 
Crown Point, Indiana 

Philip D. Castille 
New Orleans 

Jerry H. Cave 
Bethesda, Maryland 
Arts and Sciences 


1. oboJitJon of the iang. req. 

2. fillndermon's yearbook 

3. Saints' gomes 

Edward Calix 
Decatur, Alabama 
Arts and Sciences 

Magdalena M. Canales 
San Antonio, Texas 

Anthony P. Carlevaro 
Montvale, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Tom N. Carr 
Pensacola, Florida 

Charles S. Carter 
New Orleans 

Cindy A. Cerise 
New Orleans 



1. first year roommate 

2. free-fJicl(s and film series 

3. professors 

4. Figaro and Courier 

5. Mushroom in Zemurray 

I have been able to do everything / have wanted to do in terms of school, hove had mony good times, and am in one 
piece. My only sad thoughts are of leaving here for someplace else. New Orleans itself is such a monument to 
stupidity* and waste*, and as such has provided me with endless hours of amazement and anger to tafce the 
place of boredom, it will be exceedingly dull to go some place where things function normally, 
•i.e. Super Dome, transit strike, Audubon Zoo, Army Corp. of Engineers 

David Clapp 
Arts and Sciences 

Mike Chafetz 
San Antonio, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Russell F. Chambers 
Loranger, Louisiana 
Physical Education 

Clark R. Charbonnet 
Ocean Springs, Mississippi 

Robert S. Chase 
Chicago, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Donald J. Clark 
Coshocton, Ohio 

Janice R. Coffey 

Fort Lauderdale, Florida 


Yvonne E. Collier 
New Orleans 

Jason H. Collins 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Raul J. Cotilla 

Staten Island, New York 


Ian M. Cotton 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

John H. Cowan 
Shawnee Mission, Kansas 
Arts and Sciences 

David Cox 
Houston, Texas 

Henry G. Chandler 
Stamford, Connecticut 
Arts and Sciences 

David F.Clapp 
Homewood, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Rina Cohan 
Miami, Florida 

Maria Cosmas 
New Orleans 

Edwards T, Cousins 
New Orleans 

Steven R. Crista 
Waynesboro, Penn. 


How weil the flowers grow. How tall and fair! 

How eagerly they strive to kiss the skies.' 

And O how beautifuJ the buds they bear.' 

But beneath those fibrous stems so verdant Jies 

Everywhere the stench of practical sheep, 

The fJowers sown by men who stand apart. 

Though the flowers sweetly smell, the stench runs deep 

In a land where science triumphs over Art. 

Time, time, time; Time is all they care about. 

And worthless figures dominate their minds. 

They have the answers, these sheep who never doubt, 

But the truth they find is one that only blinds. 

How well the flowers grow.' How tall and fair.' 

The stench is soon forgotten, but the stench is there. 

F. Robert Duplantier 
Arts and Sciences 


Maureen A. Cronan 
New Orleans 

Emily C. Cronin 
New Orleans 

Richard C. Cummings 
Wilmette, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Janet L. Dannemann 
Metairie, Louisiana 

William H. Daume 
Nashville, Tennessee 

Michael Davidson 
Meridian, Mississippi 
Arts and Sciences 

Nancy K. Davies 
Lynchburg, Virginia 

Philip T. Deal 

Lake Providence, Louisiana 

Arts and Sciences 

David V. Degruy, Jr. 


Arts and Sciences 

Dennis P. Delaney 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Wendy Delery 
New Orleans 

Sandra N. Demby 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Deborah G. Cummings 
East Hanover, New Jersey 

Thomas F. Darden 
Fort Worth, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Dorothy G. Davis 
Toledo, Ohio 

Jean A De Barbieris 
New Orleans 

Kathleen A. Delery 
New Orleans 

Craig M. Deyerle 
Hockessin, Delaware 

hat can we do as individuals? Plenty! Don't ;ust stand there and complain DO SOMETHING! "/t is better to light 
one candle than to curse the dark!" 

Bruce L. Feingerts 



' Richard A. Diamond 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Michael A. Dicarlo 
Lake Charles, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Donna M. Dickson 
New Orleans 

Lucas A. Dileo 
New Orleans 

Frederick S. Dobard 
New Orleans 
University College 

Richard K. Domas 
Baton Rouge, Louisiana 

William Dorrance 
Ann Arbor, Michigan 

August E. Doskey 
Covington, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Jerome B. Doster 
Rochelle, Georgia 

Lawrence M. Doyle 
Greensboro, North Carolina 
Arts and Sciences 

Philip P. Drey 
Mobile, Alabama 

Doile E. Duconge 
New Orleans 

Perry Dickinson 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Howard L. Dimmig 
Shalimar, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Lydia Dorosh 
New Orleans 

William D. Dossett 
Beulah, Mississippi 
Arts and Sciences 

Spencer J. Dreischarf 

New Orleans 


Lynne E. Duke 
Gumming, Georgia 

arrived in New Orleans and registered fuii-time at Tuiane University with stern disapprobation and now in 
valediction to TuJone and the Crescent City 1 depart with austere disesteem. 

George Joseph 

Arts and Sciences 


James F. Dunn 
Trumbull, Connecticut 
Arts and Sciences 

Margaret Duplantier 
New Orleans 

Arthur Eckerson 
New Orleans 

Mark P. Edgar 
Atlanta, Georgia 

James D. Ellington 
Pekin, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Robert E. Eversole 
Oak Ridge, Tennessee 

Katherine A. Fauntleroy 
Silver Spring, Missouri 

Michael J. Feeney 
Washington, DC 
Arts and Sciences 

Barry S. Feldman 
Glencoe, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Stanley Feldman 
Charleston, South Carolina 
Arts and Sciences 

Robert N. Fielding 
Poughkeepsie, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Debra J. Fischman 
New Orleans 

came lo Tulane for the following reasons: 

1. TuJane is one of the finest schools in the South 

2. .Vew OrJeans, is a fine city, with lots of neat things to do, 
friendiy people, and a great climate. 

3. 1 heard the Newcomb girJs were out of sight. 

4. The drinking oge in iVew Orleons was eighteen. 
You know, one out of four isn't reaJly aiJ that bad. 

Edmund G. Grant 
Arts and Sciences 

Karen E. Eberle 
New Orleans 

Bernard H. Eichold 
Mobile, Alabama 
Arts and Sciences 

David M. Falgoust 
St. James, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Bruce L. Feingerts 
New Orleans 

James E. Ferrara 
Trenton, New Jersey 

Nancy Fisher 
Surfside, Florida 


Valerie F. Fitzpatrick 
Kenner, Louisiana 

Michael A. Fogarty 
Duxbury, Mississippi 
Arts and Sciences 

Deborah J. Ford 
San Antonio, Texas 

T. Fortner 

New Braunfels, Texas 

Arts and Sciences 

Philip L Frankel 
Rivervale, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Lynne R. Freeman 
Houston, Texas 

Patricia A. Fuller 
Fort Worth, Texas 

SeeneaM. Fulton 
New Orleans 

Gregory C. Gaar 
Winnfield, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Clarice Gerstenbluth 
New Orleans 

Salvador J. Giardina, }r 

New Orleans 


Peter R. Gillespie 
Bronxville, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Michael W. Fontenot 
Ville Platte, Louisiana 

John B. Fox 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Barbara A. Friedman 
Houston, Texas 

William J. Furlong 
New Orleans 

Charles M. Getchell.Jr. 
Oxford, Mississippi 
Arts and Sciences 

Frank A. Glaviano 
New Orleans 

pon embarking on the planks of the "cruel" world, we can all look back on 4 years of maturing, sharing and 
learning — 

Now more than ever we must realize not to shelter yourself in any course of action by the idea that it is "my" 
affair. It is your affair, but it is also mine and the community's. Nor can we neglect the world beyond — we must 
unite because fust like love all is a give and take proposition. 

Give, give again and again, don't lose courage, keep it up and go on giving! Remember, no one has ever become 
poor from giving. Happiness and joy, sunshine which I'll share forever — 

Taicy Gerstenbluth 


Stephen L. Golden 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Jesse E. Gonzales 
San Antonio, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Jane M. Graffeo 
Richardson, Texas 

Harold E. Graham 
Houston, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Patrick W. Gray 
Morgan City, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Steven T. Greene 
Houston, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Manuel Grullon 
Jefferson, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Edwards J. Guise III 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Cygne L. Hahn 
Midland, Texas 

Charles Hall 

Lake Charles, Louisiana 

Physical Education 

Brian C. Haller 

West Hartford, Connecticut 

Arts and Sciences 

John W. Hampton 
Fort Myers, Florida 

Donna Goodwin 
New Orleans 

Clifford J. Gray 
Plainview, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Jay Grossman 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Elizabeth D. Haelker 
San Antonio, Texas 

Daniel Hall 
Dallas, Texas 

Mark Hanudel 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 


emories of four years spent ot Tulane University: nauseating on-campus food, the Jock of parking on campus, 
the skyrocketing price of Twinkies, Tuiane 14 — LSU 0, an un-airconditioned PheJps House, mid-afternoon naps 
to counter the late night hours, the inadequacy of the Jibrary, a Mickey Mouse health center, streaking, the 
confusion of registration, the defunct on campus bowling aJJeys, a gos shortage, monsoon rain storms producing 
floods everywhere, drinking beer in the depressing atmosphere of the Rat, lines of people everywhere f bursar, 
registration, food service, LSU ticket, bookstore], Hap Glaudi, two Mardi Gras, escaping to Miami for two other 
Mardi Gras, terrible housing services such as power failures, awful mattresses, the frequent absence of hot 
water, and invisible janitorial service, the crowded tennis courts and field house. 

Also: a great roommate ffor all four years — a Tulane record I believe), a select few people to whom IwilJ al- 
ways feel close and a depleted bank account; its former contents consumed by Tulane University in exchange 
for a worthless document and four years of incredible memories. 

Clifford Gray 
Arts and Sciences 

George A. Hayne 
Boise, Idaho 

Cynthia S. Heaberlin 
Dallas, Texas 

Joan A. Heausler 
New Orleans 

Cathy L. Hellman 
Chattanooga, Tennessee 

Jessica A. Henry 
Medfoeld, Mississippi 

Eve M. Hernquist 
Nashville, Tennessee 

Robert Hertzberg 
Bayonne, New Jersey 

Tatham E. Hertsberg 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Richard Hindes 
Roslyn, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Susan E. Hobbs 
Ashland, Kentucky 

Mara B. Hoffman 
Brookville, New York 

Liza D. Hohenschutz 
New Orleans 

Nan V. Heard 
Lamesa, California 

Richard G. Helman 
Shawnee Mission, Kansas 
Arts and Sciences 

James A. Hernquist 
Nashville, Tennessee 

Susan L. Highleyman 
New Orleans 

Thomas K. Hofer 
New Orleans 
University College 

Andrew T. Holcombe 
Naples, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

everai thousand odd crash the quads, the haiis, the silence. Four long years, instantJy gone. Hurrying, ceaseless 
motion. Classes, athletics, parties, holidays. Quiet moments together — alone, /oy, pain, memories. Minds con- 
stantly shatter. Hunting, searching. For what? I wonder. More than term papers. More than chemical formulas 
and graduate board scores. School. No Life's learning. 

CharlesM. Getchell Jr. 

Arts and Sciences 


Mary E. Holley 
Damascus, Maryland 

Donald W.Hollings 
New Orleans 

Mary A. Horn 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Macom N. Hornsby 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Lucinda Huffman 
Tyler, Texas 

David G. Hughes 
Chalmette, Louisiana 

Michael T. Illinston 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Jayne C. Jacoby 
Dallas, Texas 

James W. Jeffcoat 
New Orleans 

Kathryn E. Jennings 
La Marque, Texas 

Maria De L Jimenes Codina 

New Orleans 


Ben Johnson 
Birmingham, Alabama 
Arts and Sciences 

RexM. Holmlin 
New Orleans 

John C. Hudnall 
Fort Worth, Texas 


h Life. 

How sweet. 
Ah Camp Tulane. 
So neat. 

Lovely ladies 

'n handsome men 
Swing your partners 

but don't give in! 
Swing your partners 

to and fro 
Don't say goodbye 

just say hello; 

But if you don't Jaugh 
and you won't sing 

Shepton F. Hunter 
Metairie, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Mansour H. Jaragh 
New Orleans 

Daniel J. Jessee 
Mountain Lakes, 

New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Charles Johnson 
New Orleans 
Public Health 

then you've not done 
any one damn thing. 

La-de-da-da- wo-oh-oh 

/ heard he sang a good song 
/ heard he had a style 
And so / came to see him 
To listen for awhile 


And I heard him sing 

on his broken guitar 

"Say Lu, where are you goin' to?' 
"Ha, Ha," she smiles, "a dancin'. 

Lucinda Huffman 

Robert R. Johnson 
New Orleans 
Physical Education 

Jon B. Jonas 

Satellite Beach, Florida 

Arts and Sciences 

Jennifer E. Jones 
Memphis, Tennessee 

Thomas W. Jordan 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Ron H. Josephs 
Dallas, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

JerroldM. Jung 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Kathryn S. Kahler 
Cameron, Texas 

Karen L. Kahn 
Pine Bluff, Arizona 

Michael I. Kaplan 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Michael A. Katz 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Arthur E. Keiser 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

William B. Keiser 
Ridgely, Tennessee 

Jedda A. Jones 
New Orleans 

George C. Joseph 
Miami, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Steven L. Kadden 
New Orleans 

Marty S. Kane 
Cranford, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Martin H. Kay 
New Orleans 

Rock E.Kent 

Long Beach, California 

Arts and Sciences 

hese three years at Tulane Law School, and in New Orleans, have really been rewarding forme. I've watched 
myself grow both professionally and personally; and I've learned some important concepts, like perspective and 
substantiality. I've had some great times, too; and 1 realize now that there's more to life than "go to heJI LSV", 
but thot at the time feels just right. These days have been invaluable. 

Steven Kadden 

Law School 


Philip Kessling 
Chalmette, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Andrea W. Kislan 
Hollywood, Florida 

Peter S. Kohlmann 
New York, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Andrew L. Korontjis 
Metairie, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Alan E. Krinzman 
Elberon, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Frank M. Laboureur 
Jefferson, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Jonathan M. Lake 
New Orleans 

Mark L. Lamport 
Denver Colorado 
Arts and Sciences 

Lee J. Landesberg 
New Orleans 

Nancy A. Landman 
Northbrook, 111. 

Thomas J. Landry 
Lake Charles, Louisiana 

Larry Landsman 

South Orange, New Jersey 

Arts and Sciences 

Jeffrey K. Knauer 
Miami Beach, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Frank F. Krider 
Houston, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Williams R. Ladd 
Prarie Village, Kansas 
Arts and Sciences 

Marion A. Lanasa 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Adrianne L Landry 
New Iberia, Louisiana 

Michael D. Langbart 
Fort Lauderdale, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 


he terrible and beaudful sentence, the last, the final wisdom that the earth can give, is remembered at the end, 
is spoken too late, wearily. It stands there, awful and untraduced, above the dusty racked of our lives. No for- 
getting, no forgiving, no denying, no explaining, no hating. " 

■O mortal and perishing love, born with the flesh and dying with this brain, your memory will haunt this earth 

".And now the voyage out. Where?" 

—Thomas Woolf 

Look Homeward, Angel 

Jennifer Lehmann 


Michael F. Larkin 
Metairie, Louisiana 
Graduate Engineering 

Hollis Lazar 
Chicago, Illinois 

Edward F. Lebreton 
New Orleans 

Thomas L Lecher 
Manhasset Hills, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Edward Lee 
New Orleans 

Lynne Lee 
New Orleans 

Robert A. Lesson, Jr. 
New Orleans 

Steven L. Lefkovitz 
Cookeville, Tennessee 
Arts and Sciences 

Cindy A. Leissinger 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Elizabeth Lennep 
New Orleans 

Mark W. Levin 
Bath, Maine 
Arts and Sciences 

Arthur J. Levine 
New Orleans 

John C. Lebas 
Chalmette, Louisiana 
Graduate Engineering 

David H. Ledbetter 

Jacksonville, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Patrick F. Lee 
Metairie, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Jeanne E. Legault 
Washington, DC 

Dana Leventhal 
Falls Church, Virginia 

Robert L. Levine 
Chattanooga, Tennessee 
Arts and Sciences 

hile at Tulone / have had exposure to a great variety of courses in a great variety of fields. But there is one thing 

that / have always kept in mind, 



Richard B. Jamison 

Arts and Sciences 


Keith A. Levinsohn 
Tenafly, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Donna S. Levy 
Hollywood, Florida 

Dennis S. Lewka 
Iselin, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

George M. Lightner 
Metairie, Louisiana 
Graduate Business 

Rodrigo Lindo 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Ivan S. Livingston 
Charleston, South Carolina 
Arts and Sciences 

Henry S. Long 
Birmingham, Alabama 

Merrimon L. Long 
Burlington, North Carolina 

Robert S. Lopo 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Debra E. Lozier 
New Orleans 

Debbie Luskey 
Fort Worth, Texas 

Chris A. MacLeod 
Haxrahan, Louisiana 

oy es ei manana 

Que nos preocupo oyer — 
Y nos gradiiamos/ 

Rodrigo Lindo 
Arts and Sciences 

Cynthia J. Lewis 
Dallas, Texas 

Paul H. Lind 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Joanna L. Lombard 
Fort Lauderdale, Florida 

Douglas L Longman 
Eunice, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

David Lum 
Memphis, Tennessee 
Arts and Sciences 

Anthony Malizia 
Jonesboro, Georgia 
Arts and Sciences 


Ernest R. Malone Jr. 
New Orleans 

Barlow T. Mann 
Memphis, Tennessee 
Arts and Sciences 

William J. Marchese 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Claire H. Martin 
New Orleans 
University College 

Elisa S. Martinez 
New Orleans 

David E. Massengill 
Wheaton, Maryland 
Arts and Sciences 

Robert T. McAfee 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Lucinda A. McDade 
Miami, Florida 

Melissa A. McGinn 
New Orleans 

James S. McGrath 
Overland Park, Kansas 
Arts and Sciences 

Stepbanie K. McPbail 
New Orleans 

John C. McPherson 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Bersquist R. Marcelo 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Lisa C. Martin 
Houston, Texas 

William A. May 
Birmingham, Alabama 
Arts and Sciences 

Mary F. McEnery 
New Orleans 

William V. McLeese 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Frank McRoberts 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

arewell to you and to the youth 1 have spent with you. It was but yesterday we met in a dream, 'iou hove sung to 
me in my a/oneness, and J of your longings have built a lower in the sky. But now our sleep has fled and our 
dream is over, and it is no longer dawn. The noontide is upon us and our half waking has turned to fuller day, 
_..d we must part. If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you 
shall sing to me a deeper song. And if our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another lower in 

the sky. 

— Kahlil Gibran 
Dana Baxter Leventhal 


Colleen E. Megarity 
Fort Worth, Texas 

Monroe L. Mendelsohn 
Scarsdale, NY 
Arts and Sciences 

Susan J. Mersman 
St. Louis, Missouri 

Bruce L. Mertz 
Corsicana, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Stephen R. Meyer 
New Orleans 

Mara R. Michle 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Fred S. Miller 
Hamilton, Ohio 
Arts and Sciences 

Kathryn B. Miller 
Austin, Texas 

Nancy L. Miller 
Hollywood, Florida 

Marc S. Mirsky 
Lincolnwood, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Louis L. Mizell Jr. 
San Antonio, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Meredith E. Monsky 
Birmingham, Alabama 

Noemie G. Merrick 
New Roads, La. 

Bernard W. Messer 
Lewisburg, W.V. 
Arts and Sciences 

Carol L. Miller 
Metairie, La. 

Lee R. Miller 
Brooklyn, NY 
Arts and Sciences 

Gerald E. Misel 
Atlanta, Georgia 
Arts and Sciences 

Jill Monsour 
Albany, NY 
Physical Education 

ulane is so much fun, 1 decided to lolte my lime.' 
Mary Forest McEnery 


Wayne C. Moore 

Lut Off, La. 

Arts and Sciences 

Jane K. Moos 
Highland Park, Illinois 

Wendy R. Morris 
New Orleans 

William H. Morris Jr. 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Peggy J. Moss 
Sarasota, Florida 

Clifford P. Murray 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Rafael A. Negron 

Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico 


Robert Newman 
Tampa, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

William L. Nix 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Pierre Noyer 
New Orleans 
Graduate Law 

Marianne O'Carroll 
New Orleans 

Wooserferd O'Leary 

Houma, La. 


Michael J. Mora 

Key Biscayne, Florida 

Arts and Sciences 

Robert B. Morrison 
Tampa, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Anthony P. Napolitano 
New Orleans 

Thomas E. Niesen 
St. Louis, Missouri 
Arts and Sciences 

David M. Oberholtzer 
Houston, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Robert Olivier 
Thibodaux, La. 

aving spent considerable sums on a diploma which seems likely to render me overqualified and thus unemploy- 
ab/e, I'm often tempted to rue the day J picJ<ed up my first registration packet. I now have to live with the fact 
thot I'm too educated to be a regular Joe and not educated enough to be a true intellectual. .At least I'll ha\e 
company in Limbo from all the other disillusioned B.A.'s of both sexes who will be pumping gas alongside me. 

JVfy career with the Exxon Corporation won't be totally dismal, because my education has given me something 
which defies price tags. The knowledge I've gained here will always be a passport to the endlessly fascinating 
dimension of human thought and experience. Even while flushing radiators and greasing axles. I'll always be 
supremely entertained by the tragic and funny, sublime and absurd drama which surrounds us ex ery waking 
moment. College has introduced me to a world of ideas I might never have found on my own. and if it never 
earns me a penny J won't regret the last dollar 1 spent on it. 

Bill McLeese 

Arts and Sciences 


John C. Olmstead 
New Orleans 

Richard S. Paddor 
Lincolnwood, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Pedro B. Padierna 
New Orleans 
Graduate Business 

Martin Paley 

West Newton, Mass. 

Arts and Sciences 

Melvin P. Paret 
Lake Charles, La. 
Arts and Sciences 

Jeanene V. Parker 
Arriba, Colorado 

Sandra L. Pate 
Atlanta, Georgia 

Jeffrey A. Paulus 
New Orleans 
Graduate Business 

Lynn A. Pearlman 
Orlando, Florida 

Deborah E. Pearson 
New Orleans 

Steve Peden 
Dallas, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

William R. Pedersen 
New Orleans 



Participant or spectator. 

/nvoJvement is the difference. 

Serena Fitz Randolph 


Robert E. Paddor 
Lincolnwood, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Paul J. Palmeri 
New Orleans 

Alberto Parra 
New Orleans 

Paul B. Payne 
Slaton, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

John L. Pecarrere 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Priscilla J. Penn 

Eureka Springs, Arkansas 



Arthur H. Perry 
Wheaton, Maryland 
Arts and Sciences 

Joanna E. Pessa 
Alexandria, Virginia 

Elise R. Piazza 
Newhaven, Connecticut 

Lee L. Pickett 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Judith Pinnolis 
Winston Salem, 

North Carolina 

Carlos M. Pinzon 
New Orleans 

George L. Plaeger III 
New Orleans 

Jacob A. Plique 
New Orleans 

Mary E. Podesta 
San Antonio, Texas 

Anatole Poborilenko 
Philadelphia, Pa. 

Douglas Pooley 
Denver, Colorado 
Arts and Sciences 

Oscar J. Porras 
New Orleans 

Donald M. Peterson 
Dallas, Texas 

Carla J. Pierce 
New Orleans 

Linda T. Pixler 
New Orleans 

Thomas K.Ploch 
Memphis, Tennessee 
Arts and Sciences 

Lislie M. Poison 
Cottage Grove, Oregon 

Daniel Pougeoise 
New Orleans, La. 
Graduate Law 

t would be nice to consider leaving Tulane in the good company of President Longenecker, Dean Stibbs, and Col. 
Scruton. But that would be untrue since I've just reenlisted. 

To the future I pray that my Graduate diploma reads "Tulane University" and not "LSU-Uptown". To the past, 
a toast — "Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip its been". 

Bruce Rubin 

Arts and Sciences 


JohnM. Powell 
Gretna, La. 

Nicholas K. Powell 
Kansas City, Missouri 
Arts and Sciences 

Leigh Pratt 
New Orleans 

Lee L. Prina 
Washington, D.C. 

Dick Pryor 
Jackson, Mississippi 
Physical Education 

Pam Pryor 

West Memphis, Arkansas 


Rikka L Pulliam 

West Memphis, Arkansas 


Eva A. Purnell 
New Orleans 

Michal D. Purswell 
Conroe, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Robabeh B. Rafatjah 
New Orleans 
University College 

William E. Rau 
New Orleans 

James S. Rees III 
New Orleans 

Scott M. Powers 

Ft. Mitchell, Kentucky 

Louis F. Prisco 

Great Neck, New York 

Arts and Sciences 

Michael Pugh 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Ronald J. Pursell 
New Orleans 

Steven R. Rampton 
Jacksonville, Florida 
Graduate Business 

Rick S. Rees 
New Orleans, La. 
Graduate Business 


feel (hat (he value of a university is the success with which it prepares one (o deal wi(h "(he world ou( (here . 

And I've go( (o give credi( to TuJane ... it has managed to take an apathetic s(uden( wi(h her nose in (he ar( 

building, and (each her (he most valuable lesson of all; The only way (o accomplish, (o learn, or (o really en;oy 
any(hing is (o GET INVOLVED. , l ., • 

Two words which, if vigorously employed, can mean my salvadon, that of the Student Body, that of the Univer- 
sity — and (he world. , J 

As an experimen( - really get involved in that research paper; really get into Mardi Gras fwowj; get involved 
in fighting for (he students' welfare. The opportunities are endless. 

So go to it! 

Jeanene V. Parker 

Elyse Reingold 
Henrietta, Oklahoma 

Jack A. Rhoades 
Richmond, Virginia 
University College 

James Richard 

Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania 

Arts and Sciences 

James E. Richard Jr. 
Thibodaux, Louisiana 

Michael S. Richie 
New Orleans 

Briley Richmond 
New Orleans 

Glenn M. Rick 

San Diego, California 

Arts and Sciences 

Robert H. Rickey 
New Orleans 

April Riskin 
New Orleans 

Robert E. Ritter 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Raymond A. Robinson 
Houston, Texas 

Gregg J. Rock 
Metairie, Louisiana 

David B. Ribinstein 
Merrick, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Dorothy C. Richardson 
New Albany, Indiana 

Nancy Richmond 
New Orleans 

Darryl A. Rickner 
New Orleans 

Albert Robinson 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Jose A. Rodriguez 
New Orleans, La. 

have never been so depressed, or so stimulated, in my short life. College seems to bring out glowering realities, 
while at the same time instilling a sense of being (my own beingj. 

David Shaw 

Arts and Sciences 


Sergio G. Rodriguez 
Metairie, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Dave R. Rohbock 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Debbie A. Rosenblum 
New Orleans 

Alvin Rosenfarb 
Miami Beach, Florida 

Joy Rubens 
Glencoe, Illinois 

Bruce Rubin 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Dennis K. Russell 
Metairie, Louisiana 

New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Brian E. Salathe 
New Orleans 

Robin M. Saliman 
Denver, Colorado 

Fred J. Sandefer 
Homewood, Alabama 
Arts and Sciences 

Tbomas C. Santoro 
Dix Hills, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Thomas A. Rollow 
LaFayette, Louisiana 

Mark P. Rowe 
Alvin, Texas 
Graduate Business 

Schuyler T. Ruhlman 
New Orleans 

William R. Rutledge 
Garland, Texas 
Physical Education 

Richard A. Salkin 
Scarsdale, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

John M. Sartin 
New Orleans 

hen things have gone well, when the plav, the actors, and the director have worked as an ensemble, and the 
audience has likewise given of itself, then there occurs one of those rare moments when true theatre ''ves, and 
oil is justified. The actor achieves a sense of fulfillment greater than that of any other artist, because he does 

not experience it alone". 

—Robert L. Benedelli 
The Actor at Work 
Clare Richardson 


Jodie E. Sartor 
Nashville, Tennessee 

Julie Savoy 
New Orleans 
Social Work 

Sammie Schenker 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Martin B. Schiel 
Mobile, Alabama 
Arts and Sciences 

Ellen M. Schwartz 
Chattanooga, Tennessee 
Graduate Business 

Linda R. Seale 
Houston, Texas 

Lesley B.'Shear 
Reading, Pennsylvania 

Michael J. Shimberg 
New Rochelle, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Robert Siegel 
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 
Arts and Sciences 

Donna M. Simmons 
Sarasota, Florida 

Camille D. Simpson 
Houston, Texas 

Peter M. Simpson 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Morris R. Sazer 
New Orleans 

Terry E. Schnuck 
St. Louis, Missouri 
Arts and Sciences 

David C. Shaw 
San Antonio, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Andrea Siben 

Bay Shore, New York 


George W. Simmons 
Dry Prong, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

David M. Sims 
New Orleans 
Graduate Business 

hen I came to Tulane as a freshman in 1969. there were a lot of problems with the school. The .Administration did 
not care about what the students thought, the athletic department Jost money, the medical school lost money, 
professors were leaving at an alarming rate. Tuition was being increased annually, bookstore prices were in- 
flated, etc. Now that I am ready to leave Tulane, I look around and see that the Administration does not core 
about what students think, the Athletic Department is losing money, the medical school is losing money, pro- 
fessors are leaving at an alarming rate, tuition is being raised, bookstore prices are inflated, etc. .At least the 
football team will play in the Superdome this year. Maybe . . . 

Philip Savoie 

Law School 


Irene D. Siragusa 
Lake Forest, Illinois 

Cynthia G. Sisson 
Marion, Indiana 

Thomas E. Slack 
New Orleans 
University College 

Carol H. Sloss 
Houston, Texas 

Alan N. Smason 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Jeffrey L. Smith 
Longmeadow, Maine 
Arts and Sciences 

Mark B. Sofer 
New York, N.Y. 
Arts and Sciences 

Linda J. Spaeth 
Demarest, N.J. 

Robert F. Spindell 
Tyngsboro, Maine 
Arts and Sciences 

Albert H. St. Raymond 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Steve Stanley 
Middleton, Indiana 
Physical Education 

Jane A. Steinberg 
New Orleans 

here's no use in crying, it's all over. 

But 1 know there'll always be another day 

When my heart will rise up with the morning sun 

And the hurt I feel will simpiy melt away . . . 

. . . 'Cos my heort will rise up with the morning sun. 

Roger Stix 

Arts and Sciences 

Donald R. Skotty 
Littleton, Colorado 
Arts and Sciences 

Catherine Sloss 
Deerfield, Illinois 

Kevin L. Smith 
Springfield, Ohio 
Arts and Sciences 

Charlotte A. Spencer 
New Orleans 

John F. Stack 
Waukesha, Wisconsin 

Ronald T. Stevens 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 


Roger B.Stix 
Scarsdale, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Brian J. Stockard 
Jay, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Barbara E. Stott 
New Orleans 

Luther }. Strange 
Atlanta, Georgia 
Arts and Sciences 

Robert J. Stumm 
Aurora, Illinois 

Stephen L. Suplee 
Clayton, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Michael D. Sussman 
Lincolnwood, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Charles A. Swanson 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

William H.Syll, Jr. 
Metairie, Louisiana 

Chuck J. Talbert 
Bogalusa, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

John Tavormina 
Elizabeth, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Martha C. Taylor 
Memphis, Tennessee 

John B. Stockwell 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Daniel G. Stroud 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Scott M. Supman 
Lancaster, Ohio 
Arts and Sciences 

Charles R. Swanson 
Houston, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Howard A. Taub 
Dallas, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Mark A. Thalheim 
Gretna, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

ime, lime, time . . . See what's become of me 
As / loofc around at my possibilities .. ." 

/ remember distinctly entering Newcomb in 1971 as an excited freshman and believing then that I Isnew it all. 
Now I reluctantly admit, after these years of good friends, mediocre courses and rewarding experiences, how 
little I really know. 1 gather that is what being a.graduate implies. Sometimes / feel / am not ready to face any- 
thing by McAlister Drive. Oh well . . . LOOK OUT WORLD!! Here comes another BA from Newcomb College 
hoping to find herself in your unfamiliar territory. She will need all the help she can get! 

Robin Mara Saliman 



Dwight D. Theall 
Gretna, Louisiana 

Nancie R. Theissen 
Mankato, Minnesota 

Lex Thistlethwaite 
Opelousas, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

George A. Thompson 
New Orleans 

Seth Tieger 
Cincinnati, Ohio 
Arts and Sciences 

Peter S. Title 
New Orleans 

Steven S. Tousey 
Winter Park, Florida 

Joseph E. Tusa 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Chuck B. Tyler 
Tampa, Florida 

Robert W. Uly 
Westport, Connecticut 
Arts and Sciences 

John V. Valenza, Jr. 
Slidell, Louisiana 

Carl J. Vandenberg 
Tinley Park, Illinois 
Arts and Sciences 

Edward B. Thistlethwaite 
Opelousas, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Reichel R. Thompson 
Fort Smith, Arkansas 

Richard G. Tobey 
North Plainfield, N.J. 
Arts and Sciences 

Linda Twist 
Widener, Arkansas 

Randy J. Ungar 
New Orleans 

Jill W. Verlander 
Metairie, Louisiana 

ne simply goes on in circles, the change in reference points is the illusion of growth. 
A resigned sigh escapes, it is lime to start the cycle again. 

Jane Steinberg 



New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

David C. Vogt 
New Orleans 

Claire X. Waggenspack 
Baton Rouge, Louisiana 

Scott K. Wagman 
Sarasota, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

John W. Washington 
Garland, Texas 
Physical Education 

David M. Watson 
Ossining, New York 
Arts and Sciences 

Wynnette R. Webster 
Houston, Texas 

Cynthia S. Weeks 
Monmouth, Illinois 

Diane A. Weiss 
New Orleans 

Greg Weitz 
New Orleans 

Cheryl A. White 
New Orleans 

Linda D. White 
Austin, Texas 


Watts Wacker, Jr. 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Gordon S. Walmsley 
New Orleans 

Evelyn A. Wattley 
Scarsdale, New York 

Samy E. Weinberger 
Metairie, Louisiana 
Arts and Sciences 

Harold M. Wheelahan 

New Orleans 


lone S. Whitlock 
Fanwood, New Jersey 

hrough uncertain life appears non-edible, where's the potato salad and pass the tabasco. 

Michael D. Sussman 
Arts and Sciences 


Deborah A. Whitney 
Little Rock, Arkansas 

John F. Whitney 
Green Bay, Wisconsin 
Arts and Sciences 

Donna G. Williams 
Edgewater, Maryland 

Erroll G. Williams 
New Orleans 
Graduate Business 

Laura }. Willimon 
Dallas, Texas 

Greg Wilson 
Lubbock, Texas 
Arts and Sciences 

Felipe B. Woll 
New Orleans 
Graduate Business 

Janet S. Yadley 
Tampa, Florida 

Christopher J. Young 
New Orleans 

David M. Zalkind 
Miami Beach, Florida 
Arts and Sciences 

Peter E. Zseleczky 
Chatham, New Jersey 
Arts and Sciences 

Robert A. Zuflacht 

Old Westbury, New York 


Jeffrey T. Wilkie 
Youngstown, Ohio 
Arts and Sciences 

John C.Williams 
New Orleans 
University College 

William C. Wright 
Mountain City, Tennessee 

Tyrone G. Yokum 
New Orleans 
Arts and Sciences 

Dale A. Zimmer 
Massillon, Ohio 
Arts and Sciences 

Annamerle Zwitman 
Key West, Florida 

f mediocrity is the rule at Tulone, then it's mode to be broken. Somebody's bound to exceed it eventuaJly. The 
beauty of this place is wailing to see how it's done. / hope, somehow, 1 have helped. 

James T. Wren 

Arts and Sciences 



Charles H. Auerbach 
Gene M. Bates 
Kenneth L. Burns 
Clyde E. Carroll 
Carlos A. Cespedes 
]ames C. Crawford 
Joseph R. Davis 
Jean Ann DeBarbieris 
Charles K. Desler 
Dennis F. Diego 
Louis A. Dill 
Philip P. Drey 
David A. Ebert 
Eugene B. Goldberg 
Jeffrey H. Goldman 
Daniel J. Hall 

Susan H. Harnage 
Gary D. Harrelson 
Donald W.Hollings 
Thomas W. Jenks 
Joanna Lee Lombard 
Henry S. Long 
Michael Mason 
Leroy Pierce McCarty 
Charles F. McKirahan 
Craig E. Moloney 
Jane Moos 
Hector K. Nadal 
Robert C. Olivier 
Laurie J. Petipas 
Serena Fitz Randolph 
Marc A. Reshefsky 

Michael C. Richardson 
John Gregg Rock 
Francisco A. Rodriguez 
Jose A. Rodriguez 
William D. Rogan Jr. 
Thomas D. Saunders 
Peter G. Schmidt 
Ann Schmuelling 
Stephen Sobieralsky 
Mark C. Spellman 
Robert H. Stumm Jr. 
Dwight D. Theall 
Spiros C. Vamvas 
William C. Wright II 
Christopher J. Young 




CMSS Of- 1975 

1. E. Kofi Lartevi 

2. Dennis Kasimian 

3. Jerry Routh 

4. Melinda Pouncey 

5. Thomas Winston 

6. Whitney Reader 

7. Thomas Planchard 

8. David Fajgenbaum 

9. James Angel 

10. Lelia Foster Angel 

11. Ronald Harris 

12. Leo Landry 

13. Tony LaNasa 

14. Steven Paul 

15. James Diaz 

16. Robert Grissom 

17. John Baehr 

18. Boh Allen 

19. David Simkin 

20. James Cox 

21. Marty Claiborne 

22. Robert Schwartz 

23. Stuart Chudnofsky 
Mathew Abrams 
Janic Armstrong 

Bill Ball 
Dave Berry 
Greg Bertucci 
Steven Bigler 
Barbara Boiling 
Barry Bordenave 
Jay Brynelson 
Dave Campell 
Edward Carter 
Gerald Ching 

Jonathan Ching 
Mike Clendenin 
Crawford Cleveland 
Leslie Coffman 
Chuck Collin 
John Conley 
Randy Copeland 
Bruce Craig 
Bob Crawford 
Rich Cunningham 
Bill Daniel 
Howard Davidson 
Ronald Davis 
Drake DeGrange 
Hugh Dennis 
Dave Dodd 
Steve Donn 
Al Dukes 
Bob Easton 
Bart Farris 
James Fawcett 
Ray Feierabend 
James Fontenot 
Louie Freeman 
Johnny Gibson 
Bill Graham 
Kenneth Haik 
Clarke Haley 
Hal Hawkins 
Ines Hertz 
Baxter Holland 
John Hower 
John Hudnall 
Joe Jackson 
Stacey Johnson 
Charles Joiner 
Alan Karpman 

Jay Kayser 
Scott Kirby 
Stephen Kramer 
Kevin Kuebler 
Kurt Kunzel 
Miriam Labbok 
Jeff Lambdin 
Mike Lancaster 
Steve Lazarus 
Leo Lewenstein 
Ralph Linn 
Martha LoCicero 
Jim Lusk 

Rainer MacGuire 
Tom McAnally 
Lou McCaskill 
Mike McShane 
Gib Meadows 
Jim Meek 
Jim Meyer 
Dave Miles 
Lee Morgan-Poth 
Ed Moskowitz 
Gary Murray 
Jim Novick 
Johnny Obi 
Derek Pang 
Pam Parra 
Sam Parry 
Art Paulina 
Mike Pentecost 
Priscilla Perry 
Corky Phemister 
Paul Pradel 
Lehman Preis 
Donald Prime 

Mark Provda 
Chris Putman 
William Reid 
Freddie Reynolds 
Paul Robertson 
William Robinson 
Randolph Ross 
Ray Roy 
Bob Ruderman 
Jeff Saal 
Steve Sanders 
John Saunders 
Al Saxon 
Mike Seitzinger 
Harold Sherman 
Bill Sherman 
Frank Silverman 
Garrett Snipes 
Al Solomon 
Eddie Stone 
Rand Stoneburner 
Bryan Stuart 
Russell Swann 
Lawrence Tom 
Michael Trombello 
Corbin Turpin 
Ken Van Wieren 
Peter \on Dippe 
Wayne Watkins 
William Weed 
Robert Wessler 
Ed White 
Brett Woodard 
Robert Young 
Matthew Zettl 


Memoirs of a Most 
Noted ^^Butcher'' 

Dr. Edmond Souchon 

(emeritus professor of Anatomy and Clinical Surgery 
at the Tulane Medical School from 1872-1908 ) 


After the Federals took possession of New Orleans 
in 1863, General Banks, who was then commandant of 
the Union troops stationed in the city, put Dr. Andrew 
Smyth in charge of the Charity Hospital. There he 
remained for nearly thirteen years, a thorough auto- 
crat of a rather despotic turn, backed by the federal 
bayonets and the notorious carpetbag governors. 

It was in 1864, when 31 years of age, that he per- 
formed his famous operation — the first operation in 
which a subclavian aneurism was successfully as- 
perated and the patient did not die from hemorrhag- 
ing. It was on a mulatto aged 34 years, for a right 
aneurism of the third portion of the subclavian due to 
efforts made by the patient in catching at an anchor 
in trying to save himself from drowning in a collision 
at sea. 

Ligature of the vertabral was performed on May 15 
and the aneurism closed. The patient left the hospital 
apparently cured, but still presented a small pul- 
sating tumour about the size of a pigeon's egg. 

Ten years later he came back with the tumour as 
large as ever. The sac, threatening to burst, was 
opened with the hope of plugging the opening of the 
aneurismal artery but in vain. The patient died of 
hemorrhage within forty -eight hours. 

A few hours after the celebrated patient had died, 
the body was carefully embalmed and with great 
solicitude injected with cocoa butter and carmine, 
which gave a most penetrating injection. As soon as 
ready, I started dissecting it with most intense and 
anxious interest and with as much celerity as possible 
because the friends of the dead man were chafing to 
have the remains to bury them in a style befitting 
such an illustrious personage. He had no family, but 
belonged to a coloured association whose members 
were very proud of the great celebrity the man had 
acquired as they judged from the attention and 
curiosity which followed him in all his movements. 

They were pressing and impatient in their demands 
for the body and Dr. Smyth and I were giving them all 
kinds of excuses hoping to wear out their patience. I 
for one was doggedly determined that they should not 
have him without dividing with me, and I wanted the 
lion's share. 

One morning as I was getting through with the 
dissection, I heard a great row in the waiting room 
of the dead house. This was then situated on Gravier 
Street, whereas the entrance to the hospital was in 
front, of course, on Common Street, a distance of 
about 300 feet. 

I recognized the voice of Dr. Smyth clamoring over 
the others trying to pacify them again. He had a great 
deal of influence over them being himself a repub- 

lican, but this time, I thought his prestige was fast 
ebbing away and I decided upon a bold coup d'etat 
to preserve the to be world-renowned specimen. So I 
quickly separated the interesting parts from the 
balance of the corpse, wrapped them up in an old 
sack cloth that happened to be lying there and passed 
the package out through a back window to an assistant 
keeper of the dead house; telling him to carry it to my 
coupe which was standing in front of the hospital. I 
then leaped out through the same window and took 
the garden walk opposite to the carrier, that he might 
not be suspected. I reached the front door of my 
carriage before him. Taking the much coveted 
specimen from the carrier and placing it tenderly on 
the seat next to me I drove off at once to the Tulane 
Medical College, hugging closely my precious and 
ghastly companion. 

After resisting the dead man's friends as long as he 
could. Dr. Smyth had to yield to them. But judge of 
their shock and horror when they saw all that was 
left of their saint, two legs with the viscera and a 
left arm, without being able to find out where the 
balance had gone and by what way. I do not think 
they know it to this day. They had to be contented 
with what they could get and they made as much of it 
as if it had been the whole of their friend. Dr. Smyth 
himself was much surprised and as much at a loss as 
they but more happily so. He was very glad when he 
learned where the specimen had gone. It was some 
satisfaction, he said, to be able to prove that all the 
arteries he said he had ligated had really been tied. 

From the college I moved the specimen to an ad- 
joining building for fear that the enraged friends 
might institute a search for him. There he remained, 
quietly unknown to all but myself in an old whiskey 
barrel filled with water and alcohol. I could ill afford 
then to keep him in a finer style, however deserving 
of it he was. Besides, I did not care to exhibit him 
much, any way. 

After a year or so later Professor Tobias Richard- 
son, director of the Medical School, asked me where 
the famous dissection was. Having told him and what 
a drain he was on my shallow treasury he asked me if 
I would not consent to have it sent to the Army 
Medical Museum in Washington, D.C., to which I 
gladly consented at once. There I felt sure he would 
be treated in a manner becoming such a unique relic. 

Dr. Richardson and Dr. Groenvelt arranged to have 
it sent to Washington, where it now rests in peace and 
security in all its glory in a beautiful all-glass box with 
a fine crystal lid, bathed over head in pure alcohol, 
the admiration of all who love subclavian aneurisms 
of the third portion. 









By Bennett H. Wall 

Thirty-five thousand people attended the dedi- 
cation of Tulane Stadium on October 23, 1926, and 
they saw Auburn University football team defeat 
Tulane by a score of 2-0. Within months of the first 
Tulane contest, the fertile minds of New Orleans 
Item publisher Col. James M. Thompson and his 
sports editor, Fred Digby, formulated plans for a 
New Year's football classic to be played in Tulane 
Stadium. For some years they and others pressed 
ahead until, in February 1934, the New Orleans Mid- 
Winter Sports Association was organized to sponsor 
a New Year's sports carnival featuring top college 
teams. Logically, they adopted the name "Sugar 
Bowl" for their event because the Tulane Stadium 
had been erected on a portion of the plantation where 
Etienne de Bore first successfully produced sugar 
in Louisiana. 

The original Tulane Stadium had been financed 
largely through a public fund raising drive, and all 
subsequent additions to it were paid for by the Mid- 
Winter Sports Association. The last addition to the 
stadium increased the seating capacity to 80,985. 
However, as many as 88,000 spectators have wit- 
nessed both Tulane and Sugar Bowl games. 
For almost half a century the Tulane Sugar Bowl 
Stadium served two purposes — the Green Wave 
teams played home games there, and on New Year's 
Day two of the Nation's best football teams played 
for the Sugar Bowl trophy. The Willow Street stadium 
held its own with the Nation's greatest and best: 
floodlighted in 1957; first bowl game televised coast- 
to-coast in color in 1960; press box voted among 
Nation's best by sportswriters — the list could be 
continued. With the construction of the Super Dome 
underway, the Tulane Stadium no longer received the 
attention it so much deserved. 

The parade of legendary players and coaches who 
played for or against Tulane, and those who played 
in the Sugar Bowl is almost a complete roll call of the 
Nation's finest. Who could ever forget little Davy 
O'Brien leading Texas Christian to a victory over 
Carnegie Tech in 1939; the seesaw Duke-Alabama 
game in 1945 won by Duke 29-26; U.N.C.'s Charlie 
Justice's war with Georgia's Charlie Trippi in 1947; 
"Bear" Bryant with his Kentucky Wildcats upsetting 
"Bud" Wilkinson's Oklahoma Sooners in 1951; or 
L.S.U.'s great 13-10 victory over Syracuse in 1965. 
Then there was to be the ever discussed game of 1973, 
perhaps the greatest game ever played in any 
stadium, Notre Dame 24 - Alabama 23, Bryant versus 
Parseghian. Not even the Rose Bowl can claim greater 
games or players. 

For Tulanians, the massive stadium on Willow 
Street holds many memories. Beginning with the 
early lean years (1926-1928), Tulane went undefeated 
in 1929 and in the next three years, led by the in- 

comparable Don Zimmerman, lost only three games. 
Many sports authorities consider Zimmerman the 
greatest player ever to don the Green and Blue of 
Tulane. The Tulane record in 1935 merited an invi- 
tation to the first Sugar Bowl game. There, on January 
1, Tulane defeated Temple by a 20-14 score. Tulane 
back Claude (Little Monk) Simons ran for eighty-five 
yards for the winning touchdown. Simons remained 
in the Sugar Bowl picture until he died in 1975. 

And if these two greats stood out, how could one 
omit Harley McCollum, Bobby Kellogg, Eddie Price, 
Richie Petitbon, Tommy Mason, David Abercrombie, 
knighthood on Willow Street and went on to greater 
fame in distant places. Father and son will ever argue 
the respective merits of the great tackles Paul Lea and 
Charlie Hall. The great Willow Street stadium will 
not again hear the roar of eighty thousand fans cheer- 
ing on their team. 

There stands Tulane Stadium, with a solitary flag 
waving and the litter blowing idly through the gates, 
a grand structure of steel and concrete, reinforced 
with the sweat of victor and vanquished alike. Here, 
for forty-nine years, the decision had to be made, 
and on one particular afternoon or evening. Records 
meant little, hopes and dreams went glimmering 
when a fumble changed a score or a block set a fast 
back free. Gone forever are such mundane things as 
concern over the weather. The Super Dome report- 
edly has the answers. But for Tulanians there can 
never be a comparable attachment for an alien 
facility such as they felt for that battered stadium 
right across from the dorms on Willow Street. 



Tulane football is destined for the Superdome des- 
pite student demands to continue playing at the 
historic Tulane Stadium, home of the Sugar Bowl, on 
Willow Street. University officials say they are 
delaying their decision because of the uncertain 
August 1 completion date. Yet, they insist if Tulane 
Stadium is to be used, major repairs must be made — 
immediately. "Simple patch-up" repairs alone will 
cost a mere $100,000. In the fall of 1973, however, Dr. 
Herbert Longenecker, president of the University, 
estimated a minimum of $1,500,000 in repairs were 
necessary for Tulane to play football in the Sugar 
Bowl in 1975. As a result of the inconsistency of the 
figures presented to the Tulane Board of Adminis- 
trators by the Dome Commission, a controversy 
raged. Student representatives on the Board argued 
that the figures were deceptive, noting an increase 
cost from $56,000 to $156,333. Board members reite- 
rated that their only interest was economics, but other 
factions within the university openly doubted the 
sincerity of this pious statement especially in light of 
the intermingling of Board members with New 
Orleans' big business and strong financial holdings. 
Cast in this light, Tulane football is doomed for the 

"The Tulane Hullabaloo" editoralized against the 
Dome on October 5, 1973 calling it "that fiasco of 
community boosterism." Said Larry Arcell, then 
editor of the "Hullabaloo," "College athletics are a 
part of life at a university and they should occur in a 
place which is convenient to the people who are in- 
volved in that university. Playing in the Dome is not 
exactly like playing in Tulane Stadium .... Travelling 
downtown for a football game is enough to make any- 
one just stay on campus." This accurately reflects 
Tulane sentiment both then and now. No one wants 
to move to the Dome except a handful of admini- 
strators and the Board. 

In a referendum questioning whether Tulane 
should play in the Dome, 80 percent of the students 
and 88 percent of the faculty members voted no to 
the Dome move. Additionally, 75 percent disapproved 
of the method the Board was using in making their 
decision on the Dome situation. Yet, despite this 
overwhelming vote to keep football on Willow Street, 
the Student Senate, overlooking the negative student 
opinion, passed a resolution supporting the Board's 
proposal for the Dome move. Senate president Jerry 
Clark said the vote resulted from the Senate's close 
analysis of the financial picture. However, Scott 

By Kathryn Kahler 

Wagman, who followed Clark as ASB president said 
the financial aspect was not "all so overriding. All 
this governmental expertise, as shown by past his- 
tory, falls apart when you blow on it." 

The "Hullabaloo" called the Senate's "Action, or 
inaction, a complete travesty," noting the 4-1 marginl 
by which the students voted against a Dome move. 
Said one senator, "The Student Senate has just sold 
its constituency down the river." 

Admitting that political pressure was involved, the 
Tulane Board of Administrators voted November 8, 
1973 to move football to the Superdome. According to 
Longenecker, "The Board's decision, based on ex- 
tensive consideration of all the facts, was taken on 
what it considered the best interest of the University 
for the future. That's about all there is to say on the 
matter." Clark said the Board's decision was "politi- 
cally expedient," cancelling the concern over pos- 
sible political reprisals. 

According to Edmund Mcllhenny, Tulane has, 
"under basic constitutional and statutory provisions, 
exemptions from property taxes. But if those in power 
in Baton Rouge and New Orleans want to make it hot 
for Tulane, they have the power. Where we have the 
power to reciprocate, it's in the best interest of the 
University to do this." Rumors have also circulated 
which reveal that the Dome move was based on fears 
that the Medical School bonds for the new medical 
complex would not receive a good rating. While this 
cannot be substantiated it is not totally unbelievable. 
This might be some of the "political pressure" the 
Board was referring to. 

Now that the Sugar Bowl is obsolete what will 
happen to it? Some say nothing before 1979 or 1980. 
Others are calling for a reduction in the seating capa- 
city and use in other university functions. "It's just 
going to sit there. We'll try to spend as little money as 
possible on it," said Shelby Friedrichs, chairman of 
the Board's Superdome committee. 

"Just sitting there" will be the "world's largest steel 
structure" which was once the site of the Old Etienne 
de Bore plantation, one of the first places to granulate 
sugar in this country. Whatever happens now, stu- 
dents are not likely to forget that their sentiments 
were forgotten for "economic benefits" and for the 
materialistic comforts of the Dome: instant replay, 
cushioned seats, and an environment free from 
nature's elements. Said one Board member, "Tulane 
must keep pace with the changing times." Perhaps so, 
if you like the plastic society we live in now. 




Tulane University and its football team 
obviously have a fantastic future in the 
Superdome. The recruiting attractiveness 
of this spectacular building for top high 
school prospects will be national, not merely 
local or regional. Better recruiting means 
much better teams, which in turn means 
higher attendance, improved home sched- 
ules, and healthier financing of Tulane ath- 
letic programs. 

Frankly, I will be very surprised if Tulane 
does not rank among the nation's top half- 
dozen college football teams for the ten- 
year period 1976-1985. The recruiting appeal 
of Tulane University, New Orleans, and 
"our" Superdome will lead to a near domi- 
nation of blood rival L.S.U. within the years 
inmiediately ahead. Tulane is a school with 
a fine "reputation"; New Orleans is unques- 
tionably an attractive city to young people, 
and the Superdome is in a class by itself as 
a football facility. Blue chippers anywhere 
will at least listen when a Tulane recruiter 
comes their way. 

However, I hope a healthy football future 
is not the only thing this building will mean 
to Tulane students and faculty. The Super- 
dome, if used properly and to its full advan- 
tage, will open a new era in mass entertain- 
ment. This phenomena will be of immense 
benefit financially, culturally, and socially 
to New Orleans. 

To understand such a statement one must 
understand the Superdome. Many think of 
it as a super-glamorous "STADIUM"; per- 
haps a stadium to end all stadiums. In reality, 
the Superdome is an "AUDITORIUM"; the 
finest in the world to seat more than 22,000. 
(Bear in mind that the Superdome's capacity 
will be 76,000, not 23, 24, or 25 thousand.) 

The dome is, of course, an auditorium 
rather than a stadium because it is enclosed, 
climate controlled, without outside light, 
equipped with highly sophisticated sound 
equipment, the very latest in theatrical light- 
ing, theater-type upholstered seats, six giant 
television projectors and screens, numerous 

By Dave Dixon 

interior meeting rooms, carpeted ramps and 
corridors, ad infinitum. These things do not 
currently exist in such combination in any 
present auditorium. Moreover, it is virtually 
impossible to modify any existing stadium 
in this fashion. 

In such a Superdome a new era of "mass 
entertainment" awaits us. As an admitted 
oversimplification; instead of 10,000 people 
at $10 admission at a typical auditorium for 
top flight entertainment, why not 70,000 
people for $1.50. How many families of five, 
for example, can afford $10 tickets for an 
evening's entertainment? Very few, indeed 
though almost all families can share in a 
$1.50 per person experience. 

These factors lead toward my central 
point. Why not create a Cultural Department 
of Tulane University to join other "Cultural 
Departments" of other local colleges and 
universities to promote big-time entertain- 
ment events for the whole community, just 
as an Athletic Department promotes big- 
time football and basketball? 

A cultural department of the university 
with a Superdome at its disposal could aid 
faculty salaries and award fully paid scho- 
larships to deserving young men and women 
with the profits it could recoup from its 
promotional activities in the Dome. More- 
over, the university's business and graduate 
schools would have the most fabulous labo- 
ratories in the world for accounting, adver- 
tising, marketing and salesmanship courses. 

The Superdome "can" be tremendously 
helpful to Tulane students, "provided its 
opportunity is fulJy understood and vigor- 
ousiy exploited. " 

The opportunity of the Superdome is sit- 
ting there like a chicken, waiting to be 

Pluck it, Tulane! 

Dave Dixon was the Executive Director 
of the Louisiana Superdome, 1966-72. 





I'Sai MECJHAffiCi'si iHSa'i'i''0'i'Sl, 

Through the years Tulane University has 
been given or has acquired over 50 buildings 
in the Central Business District, and its 
periphery. These considerable real estate 
holdings were used to house the university 
and to support it. Because the first plants of 
both Tulane and Newcomb were in the 
Central Business District, as was the real 
estate to support the University, the Adminis- 
trators of the Tulane Educational Fund are 
responsible for much of the physical appear- 
ance of the C.B.D. These men, however, 
never saw themselves as curators or cus- 
todians of a city or even of the physical plant 
of the university, nor did they consider their 
potential position of leadership in revitalizing 
the spirit as well as the physical appearance 
of the city. This lack of university spirit in 
relationship to the community is not left to 
the Administrators alone. For many years 
Tulane was considered largely a city college, 

By Roulhac Toledano 

educating the business community and its 
leaders for generations. Civic participation 
and responsibility may not be suitable as a 
101 course, but the message should have been 
imparted for the good of Tulane and New 
Orleans. There are indications that it was not. 

Let's start with the old University of 
Louisiana, the predessor of Tulane. The 
three handsome classic style buildings 
occupied the square bound by Canal, 
Baronne, Common, and Dryades, from 1847. 
The state of Louisiana turned the buildings 
over to the Tulane Board of Administrators 
in 1883 when the Tulane endowment fund 
was set up. Just seven years later, they 
decided the buildings were dilapidated and 
the college must be moved. This was the 
beginning of a number of unfortunate de- 
cisions. No one could be found to pay even 
$18,000 year rent for the entire property 
measuring 209 Baronne, 208 on Dryades, 310 
on Common, and 313 in rear. The entire 
membership of the Boston Club was ap- 
proached about renting it, and finally Thomas 
Nicholson leased the property for $10,000 a 
year for 99 years. This surely looks bad for 
Tulane today, but don't blame the Board. 
Papers in the archives say that the rent was 
considered renumerative enough by several 

Why in the world did they persist in getting 
rid of it in a bad economic climate? In the 
end, there was a scandal about it because 
one of the sub lessees was the wife of board 
member Charles E. Fenner. Among the 
persons who finally got the property were 
Walter Flower and Joseph W. Carroll. In 
1920, half of the original university property 
was valued at $750,000. Mrs. Carroll and 
Mrs. Flower did the university a great favor 
selling them one half of the university's 
original property for just "a moderate cost," 
although they had reportedly been offered 
$500,000 for it. Tulane collected $300,000 on 
the property and then paid $150,000 of that 
back to repurchase just one half. And no- 


body cared. Maybe nobody much knew about 
this ludicrous example of bad business. Now 
the Roosevelt Hotel (Fairmont) and Shell 
Oil building at 925 Common and University 
Place occupy part of the historic site, and the 
latter replaced the Tulane Crescent Theatres. 
Mr. Nicholson put up a row of undistinguished 
two story buildings on Baronne, and I can't 
find out who gels the rents on these proper- 
ties today, but it's not much, anyway. What 
a botch. 

Three other major buildings once assoc- 
ated with Tulane University include the old 
Mechanic's Institute, Turner's Hall and the 
first Newcomb building at Lee Circle on the 
square bound by St. Charles, Howard, Maga- 
zine, and Calliope. The Mechanic's Institute, 
which housed the law school, was described 
in the Register, 1901-1902, as "an historic 
edifice, having originally housed the Me- 
chanics Institute and was occupied by the 
academic departments of the university 
until their removal to St. Charles Avenue in 
1894. It is convenient to the law offices and 
courts of the city and contains . . . one of the 

largest public hall in the city." The Mechanics 
Institute, joining the other University build- 
ings at Canal and Barrone, was purchased 
with funds donated by Paul Tulane, accord- 
ing to the Bulletin of the Tulane University 
of Louisiana, Session, 1884-85. This famous 
building was first built in 1851 in the Gothic 
style after design of R.P. Rice, Architect. 
This building burned in 1854 but was rebuilt 
by James Gallier, Jr. The university pur- 
chased the Gallier building for $18,500 and 
repaired it for $1800 in the 1880's. It had cost 
$83,000 to build and had a hall to seat 1500. 
The university abandoned this monumental 
and historic edif ace, home of the first Law 
department and business office of the uni- 

Turner's Hall is the handsome building of 
large proportions at 938 Lafayette, corner of 
O'Keffe, buih in 1868 for the Turner's Society 
for $39,758, William Thiel, architect. Origi- 
nally described as an "aladdin's palace. 

Turners' Hall at Baronne and Lafayette, 
acquired by Tulane for a Manual Training School. 

Abandoned and sold. 


928 Canal, former property of the university 

grand in character and design, and a worthy 
monument to the genius and patient labor 
of the population which called it into exist- 
ence." One of the few remaining institu- 
tional buildings built by New Orleans' many 
charitable organizations, Turners' Hall was 
elegantly outfitted with a library, meeting 
hall and gymnasium. Tulane used it as a 
manual training school before abandoning 
it and selling it. 

A survey of the Central Business District 
at various periods indicates that many of 
Tulane University properties, historic build- 
ings which reflect the great character of the 
university's founder and of the city itself, 
became parking lots for long periods of time. 
That was the best use the board of adminis- 
trator found. 

The university, without much thought 
about it, has cheated the city which made it. 



914 Canal, once an attractive building that used to 
belong to the university 



Which is more upsetting, the lack of consid- 
eration, the lack of overall planning or the 
gaping holes left by their business ventures? 

Another disaster is the lack of longevity of 
some of the buildings put up with money 
realized from Mr. Tulane's capital. The 
Medical School left the University of Louisi- 
ana buildings and moved into the Tobias 
Gibson Richardson Memorial Center built 
by the university at 1551 Canal in 1893 by 
architects Sully and Toledano at a cost 
$266,197.69. First the board renamed the 
building after Josephine Hutchinson and then 
abandoned it in 1931, the building being 
demolished in 1934. Thirty three years! 
Buildings at the Oxford, and even the Uni- 
versity of North Carolina, to say nothing of 
Yale and Harvard, are used century after 
century. What is on that square now is a 
disaster to look at, and on world famed 
Canal St.! 

And speaking of Canal Street, number 604 
Canal Street was given by Paul Tulane. It 
was the site of his retail store, old #79 Canal 
St. in the 1860's; it was sold and now houses 

213-17 N. Peter, sites of Paul Tulane's stores, 
#20 & 26. Sold by the university. 

Rapp luggage. Other important Canal St. 
properties came to the university from other 
sources, including one square of Claiborne 
(Sheraton Delta), The Canal Jewelry build- 
ing at 914 Canal, bought as an investment, 
was one of a row of four built in 1850 to 
replace the old State House, next to the Uni- 
versity of Louisiana. Today only the cornice 
line of Canal Jewelry gives a hint of the form- 
er simplicity and sophistication of the row. 
Once more ugliness prevails on properties 
once belonging to the university. Zales' 
Jewelry building at 928 Canal once belonged 
to Tulane. It is one of the best remaining 
examples in New Orleans of the polychrome 
style of the turn of the century. It seems like 
that location on Canal would have been a 
good investment for the university to keep. 
But it didn't work out. The university former- 
ly owned 710 Canal, Porter's Stevens, but this 
four story Italianate structure of the 1870's, 
with cast iron decoration of the facade, was 
eliminated from a fast fading roster. Gone, 



too, are 213, 217, and 237 North Peters St. 
The first two have great historical importance 
as the first stores of Paul Tulane in the early 

Paul Tulane is probably turning over in his 
grave at the thought of what has happened 
to the real estate which he gave for the 
establishment of Tulane University. Mr. 
Tulane set great store in real estate (pun 
intended). Why not? After all he made a 
fortune in real estate and in the city of New 
Orleans participating in its visual and eco- 
nomic development along the way. Tulane, 
in his original letter, dated 1882, to the future 
board of administrators, said he was "sin- 
cerely desirous of contributing to their 
(Southerners and New Orleanians) moral and 
intellectual welfare." Thus he donated "all 
the real estate I own and I am possessed of 
in New Orleans" for educational purposes. 
This was over twenty five buildings in the 
American sector, which is now the Central 
Business District. The streets on which the 
property is located are still important today 
— Canal, Gravier, South Peters, Magazine, 
and Tchoupitoulas (& others). Tulane ex- 
pressed his faith in the continuing improve- 
ment of the properties in his letter to the 
future administrators. 

"The character of the property donated is 
to remain unchanged. It cannot be mortgaged 
and it cannot be sold nor incumbered in any 
way, except at the end of not less than 50 

Mortgaging it or selling it, and the invest- 
ment of the proceeds in stocks, bonds or 
other securities might, and probably would 
lead to disaster, owing to the uncertain and 
fluctuating nature of the value of securities 
of every description. On the other hand, the 
real estate, the title to which I intend to 
donate to you is well located and cannot fail 
to increase in value as the city shall become 
more prosperous." 

He was absolutely right. But let's see what 
has become of the properties. Only one, just 
one of these properties, still belongs to Tulane. 
That is 614 Gravier Street, by chance the site 
of one of Paul Tulane's clothing stores, 
established at old #74 Gravier in 1861. It is 
one of a row of three remaining granite and 

brick commercial buildings behind the new 
Chamber of Commerce, a typical commercial 
building of the 1840's. Tulane gave another 
of the row, #618, but the university sold it. 
The Chamber of Commerce, around the 
corner, is a new and indistinguished example 
of modern architecture which replaced Paul 
Tulane's own office building, then #49 Camp, 
which he occupied from 1859. 

What has become of Paul Tulane's living 
quarters, and the physical remnant of the 
commercial empire which he left for the 
university? It appears that the Board of Ad- 
ministrators started getting rid of the 
properties as soon as the fifty years had 
lapsed, showing a lack of respect for Paul 
Tulane as well as a complete disregard for 
Mr. Tulane's financial advice. It is thought 
indeed that even before his death, Mr. Tulane 
was in a state of frenzy about the misman- 
agement of the real estate he had given. He 
may have been so frustrated that he tore up a 
will which was to leave vast sums to the new 
university. Four years before his death, a 
codicil had been prepared leaving his entire 
estate to the university. But neither this, nor 
a will was found, and the estate of over a 
million dollars went to a nephew, Paul M. 
Tulane, and other relatives. This was a 
tragedy for the university, and why it hap- 
pened not one person can explain, except 
that in 1886, seven months before his death, 
Tulane is known to have been "sick and 
almost bitter on the subject of the extrava- 
gance of the Board and the President of the 

Paul Tulane's buildings were well located, 
and many were historically important, and 
an aesthetic asset to the city. A few com- 
prise some of the C.B.D.'s finest and most 
important real estate. 808-06 Perdido Street 
corner Carondelet is part of the Factors' 
Row, designed in 1858 by Lewis Reynolds. 
It was here in 1873 that Edgar Degas painted 
the famous scene of a cotton office interior. 
The university got rid of the major buildings 
on one of the finest locations, and one of the 
many intelligent and shrewd purchases of 
Paul Tulane. You may say that Tulane Uni- 
versity sold them before anybody cared 
about buildings of national importance, 


before anybody cared about history, or before 
anybody thought the property might be 
worth something greater in the long run. 
Well, if a university can't think of aesthetics, 
history and long-term economy, who can, and 
who should? 

And on and on, historic building after 
historic building sold by Tulane. How all 
that happened would be worth a thesis. In 
fact, all of Paul Tulane's property, and its 
administration by the university would have 
been worth dozens of the theses. Where are 
they? The properties have never even been 
systematically inventoried, and the board 
does not even know what they did wrong, 
so that in the future, properties might be 
better managed. 

There's more to the making of a great 
university than lamenting the lack of en- 
dowment and jumping from one financial 
crisis to another. The administrators know 
this better than anyone ... In fact, one of the 
university's broad guidelines as stated on 
page 296 of Tulane's biography by John Dyer 
states, "Tulane owes a special obligation to 
the area in which it is located." Tulane is 
dependent on the city and its citizens for 
funding, yet the Board of Administrators 
seem never to have considered the role of 
the university as a potentially influential 
one, a creative one or a helpful one to the 
city. Nor has the school developed the sense 
of history necessary for the establishment of 
a great institution. 

Think of the physical memorials to Paul 
Tulane, to Mr. W. Irby, Hutchinson, and 
Mrs. Newcomb over to properties of which 
the school has left behind to decay or 
become faceless parking lots. 

History cannot be made when the makers 
bypass all opportunity and responsibility. I 
wish my university and that of my father and 
grandfather would take advantage of its 
opportunities and live up to its obligations. 

Mrs. Toledano is co-authoress of the Friends of the 
Cabildo's seven volume series on New Orleans 


211-13 Camp St. Originally the site of Paul Tulane's 
office. Later, the Tulane Administrator's 
Building and then sold by the university. 


It is not impossible for a right-minded 
person to concede to Mrs. Toledano's argu- 
ment; however, 20-20 hindsight in evaluating 
real estate transactions is still Monday 
morning quarterbacking. 

No college or university (with the possible 
exception of Columbia) can be said to be in 
the real estate business. Indeed, real prop- 
erty bequeathed to a university can prove to 
be more a liability than an asset: the cost 
of maintenance to meet strict city codes and 
the general problems of keeping tenants, 
may frequently cause an outflow of money 
universities (notoriously un-liquid) can 

The university's problems of managing 
bequeathed real estate are intensified when 
the donor hovers over the administrator's 
shoulders or attempts to dictate from the 
grave by building severe restrictions into his 
will. Although I hesitate in saying this, Paul 
Tulane or any other donor of real estate 
unwilling to relinquish utterly his control 
of property, is better off selling to Latter & 
Blum. Mrs. Toledano may not approve of the 
administrators selling Tulane property, but 
in part from the proceeds of those sales 
Tulane has built among the best Medical and 
Law Schools in the country and prestigious 

By A. P. Antippas 

Associate Professor 

Department of English 

undergraduate and graduate departments: 
these things have immortalized Paul Tulane, 
not the fact that he owned property in the 
Central Business District. 

Without evidence to the contrary, it must 
be assumed Tulane's administrators' de- 
cisions concerning the sale or retention of 
property were devised to serve best Tulane's 
educational and financial concerns. 

It may well be this latter point which 
comes closest to accounting for Mrs. 
Toledano's irritation: Tulane has chosen to 
sell rather than serve as a force for the 
preservation of old buildings. But if Tulane 
is not in the real estate business, it is 
neither the appointed or self-ordained 
custodian or curator of the city's architectural 
heritage. Unhappily, the New Orleans' 
community itself has only lately organized 
its historical consciousness — and still the 
Vieux Carre Commission permits the abomi- 
nations on Burbon Street and cultivates a 
jurisdictional blindness to the demolition 
of row upon row of fine nineteenth century 
business housed on the other side of Canal 
Street. It is unfair to blame Tulane's adminis- 
trators for lacking prescience absent every- 
where else. 






Emma's staff of harlots went for five dollars each. 

Bartender-proprietor Kelly poured the Wurzburger. 


Al Rose is the author of "Storyville, New Orleans" 
(University of Alabama Press), and, with the late 
Driedmond Souchan, "New Orleans Jazz — A Family 
Album," winner of the 1967 Louisiana Book Award. 
He is well-known to Tulane fraternity members as 
the caricaturist whose work has adorned virtually 
all of their walls since 1938. 



Grandfather has been telling me that 
you're corrupt and degenerate. He says that 
when he was at Tulane, the fellows had 
higher moral values, a better appreciation 
of the finer things in life. You wouldn't have 
been likely to see a young gentleman of the 
class of 1912, wearing a Tulane T-shirt 
(dirty), long hair and no shoes, passed out in 
a Bourbon Street gutter clutching a bottle of 
cheap wine. No, sir! 

Oh, sure, he admits, his confreres were 
high-spirited lads, given to occasional high 
jinks. But his generation, he assures me, 
knew the meaning and importance of mode- 
ration in all things. Then, blotting the 
moisture of a seventh sazerac from his 
moustache with a linen napkin, he rises with 
an exaggerated show of dignity and takes 
his unsteady leave. 

Well, let me tell you a thing or two about 
Grandfather in 1912. It's true he never went 
to Bourbon Street. That's not where the 
action was in his day. Instead, he and a 
coterie of his companions, probably fra- 
ternity brothers, caught the St. Charles 
trolley of a spring Saturday evening and 
made the hour and a half journey to Canal 
and Basin Streets, loudly singing fraternity 
and school songs and perhaps a popular ditty 
such as, "I Want a Girl Just Like the Girl That 
Dad Had Last Night." 

He and his friends had dressed with some 
care. Starched collars, white shirts, pin- 

striped suits, vests, polished, black, high 
button shoes. Some had moustaches — the 
ones that could muster enough hairs to hold 
the wax. All had carefully pomaded hair, 
many parted in the middle after the style 
popularized by John L. Sullivan. Grand- 
father himself wore a genuine pearl stickpin 
and a solid gold watch chain from which 
hung a gold gavel to identify him as presi- 
dent of his fraternity. 

In his pocket reposed three one dollar bills 
and seventy five cents in silver, since he and 
his comrades were of the more affluent set. 
This permitted them to make more than one 
jolly stop on their Storyville Odyssey. 

It was about nine p.m. when they des- 
cended on the terminal saloon. Bartender- 
proprietor Kelly poured the Wurzburger. 
Grandfather paid the whole tab, since it was 
his turn. With a flourish he clacked his 
fifty-cent piece on the counter and received 
his two nickels in change, thereby settling 
for all eight beers. While watching his 
colleagues help themselves to the free lunch 
table containing such delectables as ham, 
roast beef, boiled shrimp and French bread, 
he sustained himself with a bowl of turtle 

The conference at the Oak Board took up 
the question of the night's itinerary. Rela- 
tively well-off as they were, they still 
couldn't afford such posh bordellos as Lulu 
White's "Mahogany Hall" or "The Arling- 
ton" or Countess Willie V. Piazza's. In those 



places a bottle of champagne cost a dollar 
and the girls were up to ten dollars. 

Anyway, they'd stop first at Emma John- 
son's "Studio" at 335 N. Basin Street where, 
for fifty cents, they could observe the no- 
torious "circus" — a forty minute perfor- 
mance by a man, three girls, and a varying 
assortment of animals engaging in whatever 
sexual activities the creative brain of the 
dissolute Emma might program. There, 
they'd each have a shot of hard liquor, prob- 
ably Raleigh Rye, a libation that would cost 
each man a dime. Emma's staff of harlots 
went for five dollars each, still too much for 
Grandfather and his cohorts. 

Now, with their biological urges presum- 
ably stimulated, they made their way around 
to Iberville Street where, between Marais 
and Villere Streets — out of the high rent 
district — they would find Ray Owens "Star 
Mansion," with special rates for Tulane 
students. In this ornate but shabby sex 
emporium, the going rate was a dollar per 
climax for the first two, five dollars each 
thereafter, price determined by consider- 
ations of time and labor. 

The "Star" had lots of sentimental mem- 
ories for Grandfather. Here, three years 
earlier, he'd been initiated simultaneously 
into manhood and his fraternity, in full view 
of the entire membership. This was where 
he went regularly during those years of his 
courtship of Grandmother to ease the ten- 
sion created by her coquetry. Grandfather 
felt at home in the "Star." 

So grandfather and the young toffs did 
what men and boys do at brothels, did it 
rather noisily and regrouped afterward on 
the banquette, vaguely intoxicated, and at 
relative peace with the world. Now the ritual 
demanded a stop for a round of drinks at 
Frank Early's "My Place" saloon on the 
corner of Bienville and Franklin. Here, 
they'd imbibe and tip the black piano player 
to play their favorite tunes — holding out 
just enough money for trolley fare and a 
"Peacemaker" from John's Lunch House. 

A "Peacemaker"? If you were a married 
man spending an evening in the district, 
before you went home you'd have John 
Gorce make you one of his special oyster 
loaves. You took this home to your wife. 
Then, if anybody told her they'd seen you in 
Storyville, you could say you just stopped 
off at John's to bring her her favorite sand- 

wich, "Peacemaker." 

So Grandfather and his merry men, aglow 
with wine, whiskey and beer, made for 
Early's. There, until the small hours of 
morning they'd drink themselves to near 
stupor, one of two, in fact, crossing the line. 
Then willy-nilly, some carrying, some 
carried, they achieved Canal Street and the 
trolley stop. 

On the way back to campus, they'd be 
more subdued than on the way downtown. 
Someone might essay the chorus of a new 
song hit such as Orleanian Nick Clesi's 
"I'm Sorry I Made You Cry," but the rest 
didn't seem to be able to muster up the force 
to join in. And there was always, it seemed, 
one of the company to vomit on the trolley 
floor. If they were lucky, no "peeler" 
(policemen) would be on the car to make 
arrests on "D & D" charges (drunk and 

Persons boarding the trolley would elevate 
their noses and assure each other that judg- 
ment day couldn't be too far off; that the 
younger generation was immoral and cor- 
rupt. And, oh yes, degenerate. Grandfather, 

At that, he and his friends hadn't found the 
evening as eventful as some. None of the 
number had, as frequently happened, 
greeted the dawn from the drunk tank at 
Parish Prison. No raging parent, this time, 
had had to be awakened from his slumbers 
to rush down in his Marmon with the bail. 

In later years. Grandfather would ac- 
knowledge with ill-concealed pride that 
he'd sown a wild oat or two — but he never 
failed to let you know that his was the last 
generation to know "how to handle it." Now- 
adays the young men didn't know "how to 
handle it." Many were, for example, actually 
sleeping with their girlfriends, even fiances, 
would you believe (somehow he never man- 
aged to seduce Grandmother into such an 
arrangement until the knot was tied.) 

Obviously, there's little hope for the 
class of 1975, what with each generation be- 
coming more immoral, corrupt, and degener- 
ate than the last. Grandfather's crowd didn't 
see very much wrong with how things were 
going with the world. With all their faults 
you could at least depend on them to help 
keep up their high standards and defend 
their lofty values. Not so today. 


1517 IbcrvUlc Street AAA Phone 1793 

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^^^^■•■.1 >• \ •• ' ■■ ..r Ni'tt ^ im'n i'>i.i'i'i.ilh Mi>s (iiiiMi'.. 

Star Mansion — with special rates for 
Tulane students. 

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l'A.N.>"i' MmXIIvi ,-si:, l|,,M„.K,-,.|„-i 

Frank Early's "My Place", home of the famous 
"Peacemaker" sandwich. 

Emma's Studio — For fifty cents, you could 
observe the notorious "circus". 


The Ncceiixy V Afii.liier BHi RbiI Ko»J Ampl> D«inuo»li«Ud. 

















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When you think of New Orleans jazz, your mind 
brings forth images of dixieland, riverboats, and 
black funerals. The pure New Orleans music the 
brass bands typify as they cavort among the crowd, a 
step ahead of the second liners, with their dented 
trombones, tarnished trumpets and single bass drums. 
That and people, plenty of people. 

The sun beat down upon a happy crowd that kept 
growing with each passing day. A few strands of 
marijuhana smoke drifted through the heavy air and 
the smell of beer was everywhere. Well-respected 
members of the community let their hair down along- 
side the majority who aren't so well-respected. And 
the no-bra look was definitely in. 

It was hot, and the humidity was close to one 
hundred percent. It was a day for jazz and a perfect 
one for a festival. A handful of gnats attacked your 
sweat drenched body as you made your way to the 
entrance gate and stayed with you the entire after- 
noon. The Fair Grounds stand as an aristocratic 
survivor of the Gatsby era, a fitting showcase for the 
sixth annual New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. 

There were three concerts aboard the S.S. Admiral, 
which left the wharf at the foot of Canal early in the 
evening, besides the three days of insanity in the Fair 
Grounds infield. With a budget of close to a quarter 
of a million dollars, this year's festival drew about 
ninety thousand people, making it the most successful 
one yet. 

The first evening concert combined the best "tra- 
ditional" jazz musician the Quarter has to offer. Louis 
Cottrell, Kid Thomas, and Danny Barker each brought 
their well known bands, but the highlight of the 
evening was a rare performance by Danny's wife 
Blue Lu Barker. It was a great show, but like many 
of you I chose to meet the President that evening on 
campus; besides, he was six and a half dollars cheaper. 
The following night it was rhythm and blues with the 
heavyweights; B.B. King, Fats Domino, and Allen 
Toussaint. Freddie Hubbard, McCoy Tyner and Earl 
Turbinton headlined the final cruise with their con- 
temporary jazz. All three nights were critically 

acclaimed but I didn't find anyone who could afford 
all three. 

The daytime portion of the festival was called the 
"Heritage Fair." Eight stages and the gospel tent 
competed nonstop for your attention as you weaved 
your way through the crowd. There were dozens of 
booths trying to pawn off the handiwork they couldn't 
get you to buy uptown, and the great soul cooks tem- 
porarily moved into a nice neighborhood just to feed 
the festival goers. It's just too bad that we all seemed 
to get thirsty at the same time. It was too hot a day 
to buy your drinks in advance, too hot a day to stand 
in line, yet too hot a day to go without. I felt caught 
in a vicious circle. The Jos. Schlitz Brewing Company 
helped sponsor the festival and in return received 
a monopoly on the beer sales. They proceeded to 
charge three times the normal price, and still you had 
to fight the crowd. 

The festival has often been criticized for bringing 
in a crowd drawing acts straying from the pure New 
Orleans sound. This year everyone from Roosevelt 
Sykes to the Olympia Brass Band had their share of 
the limelight. But it was a heritage festival also. 
That's why Allen Fontenot and his Country Cajuns, 
standing tall in their cowboy boots, were performing 
on your right as you walked toward the stage where 
the Meters were to perform within the next hour. 
If you read the program, you'd realize that there were 
also Danish, British, and Brazilian bands playing 
dixieland with hardly an accent. 

As the day wore on and the sun beat down on the 
uncovered crowd, tons of red beans, crawfish, and 
jambalaya were washed down with the rivers of beer 
and coca-cola, only to be followed by sno-balls, 
spumoni ice cream, and big slices of watermelon. 
The Roman Candy Man was parked there all day. A 
sentimental treasure of uptown New Orleans, the 
mule drawn carriage was selling out daily. Strangely 
enough, this arch-enemy of loose fillings was the 
same price it's always been. It had been a perfect 
New Orleans day; as hot and earthy as New^ Orleans 
jazz itself. The only thing missing was rain. 

by Keith V. Abramson 







By Carolyn Kolb 

The phrase "Living off the Land" has gotten some 
bad connotations these days. Heahh food groupies, 
macrobiotics, yin and yang, and the whole cuh of 
"natural foods" which in its present ramifications is 
about as mysterious and oriental as Redondo Beach, 
California — this, to me, is missing the point. 

If you really want to talk about "Living off the 
Land" — and doing it very well — you need look no 
further than New Orleans and Creole cooking. 

Creole, in present day usage, means no more than 
home grown. And, if you really think about it, the 
very best of New Orleans' food is just that — home 

Take seafood for instance: it really doesn't take 
much ingenuity or effort to catch your own crabs. 
Actually you could probably be successful with a 
piece of string and some bacon for bait. Crabs are 
salt water scavengers. You find them in Lake Pont- 
chartrain or in salt bayous. Old fish, rancid meat, 
anything apparently inedible is fine bait for crabs. 

Ideally you should equip yourself with a supply of 
bait (I favor aged chicken necks), a few crab nets, 
plenty of cord to let the nets down with, any old crate 
or hamper to hold your catch, and a damp burlap to 
keep your catch comfortable and penned in. Then you 
just drop your nets and wait for supper to arrive. 

The procedure for crawfish is basically the same, 
but you confine your search to fresh water. Drainage 
ditcbes are a good idea. And, of course, you have to 
use a crawfisb net, (crawfish nets are flat, crab nets 
are basket shaped.) 

You can even catch your own shrimp. The shrimp 
net is cast out over the water, forming a circle. When 
you pull in the line, the circle forms a bag enclosing, 
presumably, a school of shrimp. 

I have never been able to throw a shrimp net 
successfully. The one time we tried we went out after 
dark to the sea wall along Lake Pontchartrain. We 
practiced throwing the net out on the grass, getting a 
lot of criticism from folks who were sitting around 
fishing. Finally a man in the crowd, obviously ap- 
palled by our efforts, stepped up to show us "the way 
ya gotta do this." 

He spread the net out then gathered it up, holding 
part in both hands and biting the other edge. He stood 
on the sea wall and made a mighty cast. Unhappily 
he was unable to retrieve his teeth, which he had lost 
in the process. 

Since, we have discovered that it is as much a plea- 
sure to be able to buy your shrimp from the hold of a 
shrimp boat docked, say, at Grande Isle. In with the 
shrimp you find bits of seaweed, tiny fish, and baby 
crabs. But cleaned and sorted then seasoned and 
boiled they taste better than anything out of a can or a 
frozen food bin. 

You can fish almost anywhere in Louisiana, either 
in a boat or on a bank. You can buy oysters by the sack 
or open your own (or you can cheat and let them open 
themselves on a barbeque grill.) Even for your 
seasonings you need look no further than any Louisi- 
ana woods. Those bay leaves that come in the red and 

white boxes on the shelves of grocery stores actually 
grow on trees around here, and you can pick your 
own and dry them. If you want file for gumbo you can 
pick, dry and powder sassafras leaves. 

It takes only a little backyard space (or even a 
flower pot or two) to grow your own green onions, and 
parsley and tiny hot red peppers. The glorious Creole 
tomato, of horny skin and sweet, pungent flesh, 
grows much better outside your door than it ever 
did in a plastic package at the A&P. 

Energetic and informed salad lovers can find wild 
dandelion greens, or poke salad, or even edible 
mushrooms in Louisiana woods and parks. 

Blackberries abound in early summer, their bram- 
bles covering fences, cutover fields, even vacant city 
lots. I gathered blackberries every summer when I 
was a child, the most helpful hint I remember was to 
wear an old pair of cotton gloves for protection from 
thorns and insect bites. 

The little yellow Japanese plums (or loquats) ap- 
pear on trees all over New Orleans in the early 
Spring. They make a lovely, tart jelly. Even the wild 
cherry trees with their tiny stoney fruit can be used 
for a bome-made liquor called Cherry Bounce. 

The nicest thing of all about New Orleans food is 
that it really is part of our heritage. The things we eat 
in New Orleans today — jambalaya, gumbo, boiled 
crabs and shrimp, stuffed peppers and eggplant, the 
local dishes that you find in every restaurant from the 
humble plate lunch cafe to the grandest establish- 
ment — these are the things that people who live in 
New Orleans have eaten practically since New 
Orleans was founded. 

Old fashioned cooking — what your ancestors were 
eating — naturally had to be made of local ingred- 
ients, things that were available nearby. In the days 
without truck lines and air mail and quick freezing, 
people ate what was on hand, and when it was readily 
available they canned it, preserved it, smoked it or 
salted it for supplies in the leaner months of the year. 

After the Battle of New Orleans nobody marched 
off to the nearest Interstate to eat "prole burgers." 
They probably went home and had turtle soup, or 
gumbo, or jambalaya. 

Finally the food of New Orleans is getting official 
recognition. There's a Food Festival in the Summer 
and the Jazz and Heritage Fair in the Spring features 
booths selling local delicacies. 

This is as it should be. History can never be only 
buildings and biographies. History, continuity, our 
ties to the past — these depend first of all on human 
beings, the ones who are and the ones who were. 

In New Orleans all of us are blessed with the con- 
tinuing tradition of "Living off the Land" in the best 
sense, and a heritage of traditions — African, French, 
Indian, Spanish, Italian — go into every mouthful 
of Creole food. 

Carolyn Kolb, Newcomb '63, is the author of New 
Orleans: An invitation to Discover One of America's 

Most Fascinating Cities 


mv 'iz-f 



by Alan Samson 

They call it Carnival. "The Greatest Free Show on 
Earth" — that is, if you can afford it. It is a period 
of immense commercialization and, accordingly, 
great hype. And it is a uniquely inexplicable time of 
year; a time when blue bloods and blue collars 
contend with each for a two-cent pair of plastic 
Japanese beads. 

But the spirit of Mardi Gras encompasses so much 
more than that. It is to many an intermingling of past 
and present conceptions — the union of the indigen- 
ous and alien elements present in New Orleans. Each 
Mardi Gras is somehow starkly different from its 
immediate predecessor. It is as though the Carnival 
is an entity unto itself; it needs no explanation other 
than it exists. 

Ask a hundred different people for their impres- 
sions of Mardi Gras and you'll get a myriad of 
variances on the subject. No one seems able to pin 
down just what gives the Carnival its inner glow, its 
magical quality. Indeed, the city is a -buzz at Carnival 
time with children clamoring for trinkets while 
their parents stand to their sides or bestride ladders 
whose box seats afford handsome jails for their off- 
spring. The parades are unveiled in full splendour — 
each a veritable fairy tale for old and young alike. 
And as the procession of dukes, captains, kings and 
queens meanders down the streets of New Orleans, 
the city's avenues become filled with magic. 

The expression that New Orleans has a parade for 
everything is unfortunately worn with time and abuse. 
Yet there is no one parade given at any other time 
of the year which can ever hope to parallel the 
pageantry of the lowliest Carnival krewe's. The 
tourists seem to sense this intuitively, which is per- 
haps one of the reasons that the annual Sugar Bowl 
parade is but a remembrance of things past. 

For the million or so tourists who flock to the city 
for the Fat Tuesday celebration, there are opulent 
hotel suites ranging in price from seventy-five to one 
hundred dollars a day — at a three-day minimum, of 
course. And it is inside the protection of those walls 
that they repose, imbibing liquor and gorging them- 
selves on the city's special cuisine. When it comes 
time to view a parade, these distinguished visitors 
will hop into their respective cabs with a hidden 
bottle, finding just the right place along Saint Charles 
Avenue from which to view the spectacle. It is there 
that they stand, drinking and carrying on, hardly 
ever noticing the other tourists next to them who also 
came down south for the celebration. These are the 

tourists who can't quite afford to spend three to four 
hundred dollars on hotel rooms. Finding shelter with 
friends or, perhaps, more reasonable rooms, they 
too repose inside the shelter of the four walls they 
were fortunate enough to secure. Drinking fifths of 
Boone's Farm Apple Wine and eating Lucky Dogs, 
they manage to get to the parade route by other means 
— either they walk or catch a bus or streetcar. 

The two weeks of parades prior to Mardi Gras 
Day seem to make the long-awaited holiday anti- 
climactic; like something from Ovid's Metamorphosis, 
the lesser gods fall to the wayside, making way for 
the power, splendour, and regentry of Rex — "The 
King of Carnival," as the Times-Picayune would have 
us know by the immoderate emblazonment on their 
front page. 

Nevertheless the real pageantry goes on within the 
confines of the Municipal Auditorium, where, since 
the second week in January, the wondrous institu- 
tions known as Carnival Balls have been going on 
non-stop. With lush orchestral music supplied by 
local musicians the krewe members take to the ball- 
room floor, attired in the costumes they have donned 
in accordance with this year's theme. Amidst the 
innumerable callouts are the ladies in evening 
dresses, hoping to look as chic and sophisticated as 
their years will allow them, and the regal men in their 
tails, hoping to prove themselves the equal of Jimmy 
Fitzmorris. Yet it is not their night to shine, for the 
Carnival Ball exists but for one person; he is the 
captain of the respective krewe. This is his night and 
he lets everyone in attendance know it. 

Inside, the atmosphere of the ball suggests frivality 
and gaiety, while the outside atmosphere of the 
streets suggests an omnipresent jazz-rock fusion 
epitomized best by the flambo carrier. Somewhere 
between the funk of the dancing flambo carrier and 
the regality of the krewe captain is the true spirit 
of Mardi Gras. 

But we shall never know this spirit — it is far too 
elusive to be put into print. While we are searching 
for the spirit of Fat Tuesday, it is slowly passing us 
by as the serpentine route of the Carnival Parade 
draws to its conclusion. The spirit passes us by as we 
stoop to pick up a drunken friend on the streets of 
the Vieux Carre. It passes us by as we police the 
Tulahe campus to make sure that unwelcome visitors 
maintain their distance from the University. It passes 
us by as we work with the Mardi Gras Colition to 
insure the safety and enjoyment of the Carnival 
Season for all. And, sadly enough, it passes us by 
even as we watch . . . 























Richard Paddor 

Robert Paddor 



Ernie Back 

^ ^<V ■' /».>. 

Stacy Berger 
Richard Paddor 
Robert Paddor 

Buddy Brimberg 


®fe ^ulan^ W IBuIIabaloo 

Richard Baudouin — Editor-in-Chief 

Marion LaNasa — Managing Editor 

Jim Abrams — Business Manager 

Robin Buckner — News Editor 

Dan Fishbein — Features Editor 

Mike Johnston — Sports Editor 

Rod Skotty — Assistant Sports Editor 

Eric Jones — Cartoonist 

Andy Boyd — Photography Editor 

Larry Largent — Entertainment Editor 

Nate Lee — Assistant News Editor 

Greg Ptacek — Assistant News Editor 

Jim Fazzino — Assistant Features Editor 

Terry Breen — Contributing Editor 
Kathryn Kahler — Contributing Editor 

Dr. Andy Antippas — Faculty Advisor 

Steve Alleman — Circulation Manager 

Amy Connor — Illustrator 


Laura Edisen 
Christopher Drew 
Tom Kerins 
Rory Babbit 
Bill Kuhn 
Tom Kerins 

Keith Levine 
Julie Tracey 
Arnold Schoenberg 
Tom Dolan 
Jerry Cave 


V KNOW u)H£R,e:H0U60T 
HOUR STfiRT r.d.? 








Bill Herklots — GENERAL MANAGER 





Marty Krongold — MUSIC DIRECTOR 


Frank Adelman 
Thomas Planchard 
James Guilbreas 
Paul Mignona 
Ken Davis 
Rick Shepard 
Robert Dabney 
Doug Mayberry 
Al Breitstein 
Bill Carroll 
Keith Levinsohn 
Matt Powell 
Steve Rappaport 
Michael Schwartz 
Doug Smith 
Joe Lassus 
Charles Driebie 
Walter Unglaub 
Mike Farley 

Robert Ross 
Jory Katlin 
Robert Osterland 
Alan Smason 
Donna Levy 
Mick Chernekoff 
Paul Mooney 
Gregory Wilson 
Robert Heidt 
Shephard Samuels 
Nancy Thomas 
Lee Pickett 
Julia Treacy 
Talmadge Williams 
Eric Grenne 
Gary Goss 
Gene Elliot 
Cathy Fishman 




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Chairman — Peter Kohlman 

Heidi Gross 

Paul Medellin 

Randy Segal 

Mark Rapoport 

Jean Veta 

Nancy Bikson 

Mike Ferrante 

Vangie Greek 

Dana Smith 

Gideon Stanton 

Richard Baudouin 

Paulette Rittenberg 

Alan Levin 

Mike Zelina 

Shaun Sheehy 

Steve Pincus 

Mark Gonzalez 

Beth Houghton 

Deirdre Boyd 

Marilyn Rose 

Mike Feeney 

George Long 

Jim Butner 

Raul Rodriguez Alexander Laf argue | 

Beth Frankel 

Nadine Ramsey 

Chuck Adams 

Jody Blake 

Raul Torres 

Richard Ducote 

Mike Schwartz 

Jim Hood 

Laurie Kiser 

John Scotto 



Tulane Student Government? . . . Typical, yet power- 
ful. Power to revolt ... or revolting power? What is 
power anyway? Please choose one: 

a) Creating the Tulane Used Book Exchange 
(TUBE) as an alternative to our own bookstore. 

b) Allotting LSU tickets we were all entitled to in 
the first place. 

c) Demanding Gynecological service we had last 

d) Making a recommendation for the new univer- 
sity president two weeks after he had already 
been chosen. 

e) Investigating our own affairs, like the ]am- 
balaya or WTUL. 

What is a student government? ... A full time secre- 
tary with several hundred bosses? . . . Long meetings? 

By Jeff Barter 

. . . Officers who are "busy at their desks"? . . . Pub- 
licity conscious senators that volunteer for every 
committee? . . . University Senate meetings, where 
often is heard a "discouraging word"? (Strangely 
enough, always from a student member) . . . Hot-shot 
bureaucrats, like myself? . . . The bearded wonder? 
(an editorial reference to our president) ... Is student 
government stagnant or "sleeping"? . . . No more so 
than anything else at Tulane. 

We keep pace with all that is around us. Are we better 
off than those that came before us or than we were 
as high school students? . . . Perhaps the questions 
should be "are we in better hands with student 
government than with the composite of state, local, 
and federal governments?" . . . Reflection will make 
the heart grow fonder! 


Evie Ainsworth 

Nancy Miller 

Jeff Barter 

Christy Montegut 

Carole Bitman 

Pauline Morgar 

Merritt Blakeslee 

Michael J. McManus 

Timothy Bohan 

John Nelson 

Lance Borochoff 

Cathy Newman 

Jenny Brush 

Terryl Anne Propper 

Chet Chidester 

E. R. Quatrevaux 

Stanley Cohn 

Candy Quinn 

Scott Cristal 

Linda Robertson 

Rembert Donelson 

Larry Romans 

Bart Farris 

Debbie Rosenblum 

Rick Fernholz 

Joseph Sanders 

Susan Guarjno 

JohnM. Sartin 

George Ann Nayne 

Dick Schuldt 

Thomas Hofer 

Larry Scloss 

Susan Horowitz 

Betty Shiell 

Sam Householder 

David Singer 

Grady Hurley — President ASB Ricki Slacter | 

Richard M. Ireland 

Luther Strange 

Doug Jacobs 

John Tavormina 

Steve Katz 

Jean Veta — VPUA 

Ken Krobert 

James B. Walters 

Miriam Labbok 

Tom Webb 

Alan B. Levin 

Loyd Whitley 

Tim Medcon — VPA 

John Youngblood 

Cynthia Miller 



Rex Homlin — President 

Juan Fiol — Vice President 

Wayne Moore — Vice President of Finance 

Lisa Leech — Vice President of Public Relations 

Ann Drummond — Secretary 

Marc McConahy — Tech-Staff 

Brian Stochard — Recreation Chairman 

Ron Stevens — Spotlighters 

Robert Ritter — Video 

Ron Bailey — Lagniappes 

Lou Lemert — Fine Arts 

Gordon Sokoloff — Lyceum 

Carol Harkins — Hospitality 

Frank Miely — Cinema 

Gary Leviton — Cosmopolitan 

Bob Thomas — Regional Co-ordinator 



Joe Powe 

George Thompson 

Jim McGrath 

Ron Aspaas 

Bruce Holmes 

David Krost 

Harley Ginsberg 

Billy Eliers 

Sally Lam 

Jobn Craft 

Kevin Longenecker 

Rick Jamison 

Treva Milburn 

Mike DiCarlo 

Rickey Howe 

David Chandler 

David Key 

Mike Remington 

Nancy Craft 

Marc Miller 

Al Parker 

Dave Bell 

Bob Buesinger 

Bruce Pollock — Advisor 

Pete Wollenette 


,«^««<> , 


Van Blasini 

Lee Bronock 

Jeffrey Davis 

Patrick Dearie 

James Douglass 

Michael Gilder 

Anderson Hague 

Melville Harris 

Harry Mendoza 

Pedro Ramos 

Nicholas Vaccaro 

Carla Bloom 

Mabry Cakie 

Rita Jung 

Teresa Moore 

Linda Burke 

Sissy Parhell 


Henry Turner 


Jay Hansche 

Faculty Advisor 

Robert Adatto 

George Joseph 

Dan Anderson 

Karen Keil 

Roger Bell 

Ira Krottinger 

David Beyer 

Robert LeBreton 

Tommy Bienvenu 

Luis Linares 

Karl Billins 

Steve Mayer 

Randi Borel 

William McCarthy 

William Carrdel 

Jerry Melowe 

Scott Clegg 

Mark Mendall 

Craig Cohen 

C. Spencer Meredith 

Kirk Dameron 

Theresa Moore 

Steven Dehmlow 

Jack Moreland 

Todd Echert 


Gene Elliott 

Carry O'Conner 

Wes Estabrook 

Thomas O'Malley 

Paul Ferchaud 

Bob Pospick 

Ike Fitz 

Victor Ratner 

Jay Flece 

Tom Reinsch 

Jim Fouts 

Richard Roberts 

Mitch Frumkin 

Philip Rogers 

Walter Gamard 


Howard Gandler 

Jim Sammartino 

William Garland 

Mark Schradner 

Jerry Gatto 

John Tappan 

Mel Grewe 

John Thistlethwaite 

Kenneth Gutzeit 

Lex Thistlethwaite 

Harry Hammett 

Nancy Thomas 

Joshua Harris 

Daniel Wappell 

John Hickman 

Cynthia Wayland 

Prentice Hicks 

Marcel Wisznia 






Cindy Weeks — Pres. 
Alicia Crew — Advisor 
Mark Alexander 
Andrea Bostian 
Wendy Morris 
Allison Raynor 
Jan Strider 
Pam Strider 
Ann Welch 
Leah Wilkinson 
Janet Stoner 




272 . 

Wayna Rumley — 

Feature Twirler 

Cesar Jaime 
Beryl Bachas 
Wendy Cohn 
Mary Lawless 
Susan Moore 
Lynn Schott 




Officers for 1975 

Joseph Bruno — Chairman 

Michael StoUz — Secretary 

Neil B. Glenn — Treasurer 

Edward Baldwin — Athletic Chairman 

John Boudreaux — Publicity Chairman 

John O'Connor — Activities Chairman 

Athletic Committee 
James Beskin 
John Farley 
Paul Feinstein 
Parker Heffron 

Advisor To Fraternities 










E E 






Craig M. Deyerle 

Thomas W. Reinsch 

Michael E. DriscoU 

Lawrence M. Riddles 

Gerald E. Misel, Jr. 

Richard A. Sabalot 

Charles C. Sparkman 

Don A. Sibley 

John F. Stack, Jr. 

William B. Trusty 

James T. Wren 

Carlton F. Fufrechou 

Robert F. Aaron, Jr. 

Johnathan W. Ericson 

Brian C. Allen 

Thomas F. Harwell 

David E.Baker 

Raymond L. Horn 

Raymond K. Hicks 

Sean M.Kelly 

John C. Hildehrand, Jr. 

William D. Mason 

Lynn J. Stone 

Barbara B. Renfro 

Lauriston S. Taylor 

Rene Robert 

Alvin N. Aramburo, Jr. 

Clifford R. Scott 

Kirk D. Dameron 

Christopher E. Sibley 

Mark E. Heinsohn 

Robert A. Strini 






Capt. Herman Abelein 

Cdr. Robert Duff 

Lcdr. Richard Eacott 

Capt. Kenneth Moore 

Lt. Gary Sullivan 

Lt. Lawrence McBee 

Lt. John Schuyler 

Lt. Charles Havlik 

Lt. Richard Cable 


Omc. James Sneed 

Ski. William Cassin 

Ynl. Dennis Kelley 

Ssgt. Raymond Edwards 

Eddie Anderson 
Barry Ashe 
Roger Atkins 
Richard Bedford 
John Blockowitch 
Timothy Bloomfield 
Mickey Brown 
Mark Cavanaugh 
William Chandler 
Robert Dabney 
John Donnes 
Bruce Fedor 
Lawrence Francioni 
George Fullerlon 
Albert Gidari 
Byron Haydel 
Roger Jones 
David Keir 
Georges LeBlanc 
Neil McLean 
Michael McBride 
Howard Morris 
Curtis Mosley 
John O'Donnell 
John Ott 
John Racoosin 

Luke Sanna 

Alfred Saurage 

Robert Senter 

Rodney Skotty 

William Smith 

Nathan Snell 

Donald Stafford 

Chester Stetfelt 

Michael Storm 

Marcus Urioste 

Larry Wink 

John Zimmerman 

Robert Zito 

Steven Crane 

Franklin Adelman 

Bert Algood 

Ernest Armond 

Drew Bennett 

Peter Brunstetter 

Jack Capella 

Lionel Cheri 

Dirk Hebert 

Albert Koscal 

David Lewis 

Alan Littlejohn 

James McGowan 

Michael Palatas 

|n ill 


William Quails 
Charles Romans 
Robert Ross 
Edward Schmitt 
Stephen Schweitzer 
John Stelly 
John Wayne 
Keith Amacker 
Kenneth Bates 
Leonard Blasiol 
Patrick Bloomfield 
Robert Burkes 
James Colton 
Brian Delaney 
Edwin Dennard 
Bruce France 
Don Hendrickson 
Michael Huete 
Robert Jeffries 

Edward Stack 

James Steverson 

Randall Torres 

Jonathan White 

Thomas Atkinson 

Vincent Caracci 

Ian Cotton 

David Cox 

Thomas Dolan 

William Dorrance 

Michael Feeney 

John Hill 

William Howe 

Jon Jonas 

Rock Kent 

Philip Kessling 

Frank Laboureur 

Robert Layton 

David Oberholtzer 

James Hunter 

Oscar Porras 

Kurt Kosack 

Thomas Rollow 

David Maier 

Darryl Rickner 

Charles McClain 

George Simmons 

Marc McConahy 

Donald Skotty 

Richard Norton 

Will Temple 

Emmett Schlumbrecht 

John Warner 

Paul Schneider 



Mary Alphonse 

Kenneth Nash 

Verel Washington 

Curklin Atkins 

Nadine Ramsey 

Cheryl White 

Lynn Bernal 

Beverley Robinson 

Mickey Brown 

Eric Cager 

Joseph Sanders 

Robert Brown 

Jean Charles 

Terron Sims 

Elery Jones 

Gerard Coulon 

Janice Ferry 

Vivison Kerr 

Kevin Cowens 

Vernon Thomas 

Frank Montague 

Luke Delpit 

Michael Thompson 

Raul Rodriguez 

Shelley DeMar 

Van J. Thornton 

Nina Thomas 

Albert Dobbins 

Wynette Webster 

Joseph Swafford 

Kordice Douglas 

Virgil Wilkerson 

Wyatt Washington 

Seenea Fulton 

Gerilyn Wilson 

Earl Williams 

Claude Gasper 

Lorenzo York 

Keith Wolfe 

Gregory Harrison 

Alvin Aramburo 

Myrtis Wilson 

Steve Hawkins 

Nichael Cobb 

Winnifred Wallace 

Jeffrey Jackson 

Horace Cornish 

Gary Wiltz 

Jedda Jones 

Charles Hall 

Connie Richardson 

Steve Jones 

Anne-Renee Hemingburg 

Lynne Lee 

George Long 

Virginia House 

John Dupre 

Selarstene Magee 

Kevin Johnson 

Charlotte Bordenave 

Ronald Malone 

Venessa Jones 

Karen Bell 

Pat Marchand 

Kim Peters 


Ronald McGowan 

Glenda Singleton 

Alvin Jones 

Paul Mitchell 

Ronald Stevens 

Simone McGee 

Barry Morris 

John Washington 

James Smith 



The fourteen fraternities at Tulane University represent a broad cross-section of students, 
and, as of September, 1974, approximately 42% of the male undergraduate population was 
affiliated with a fraternity. 

Other than the acquisition of book knowledge, college provides the individual with time 
for personal growth. Yet, it is within this microcosm of a university that the college student 
must strive for maturity while constantly being presented with a melange of ideas and situa- 
tions. Confronted with decisions on precedence and relevance, students get lost in the con- 
fusion or caught up with indecision. Some students will choose to sit on life's sidelines and 
watch the world pass by, while others won't even know what is happening. These people do 
nothing, and contribute nothing. 

Other students, while facing the delusions and pressures of college life, will seek an outlet 
and a refuge; — the fraternity. This is not meant to infer that fraternities are escapist camps, 
rather they provide an opportunity to develop one's character through social interaction. 

The emphasis has shifted from the primary "social" organization to an ultimate objective, 
designed to reach each member in ways which will support his personal growth, increase 
his understanding of his impact on others, permit a greater awareness of who he is, and en- 
courage the development and strengthening of his interpersonal leadership skills. This could 
not be achieved by just any large, impersonal group of college students. The small size of the 
fraternity in relation to the entire university population provides an opportunity for personal 
relationships and the development of lasting friendships. 

Tulane's interfraternity council unites Tulane's fraternities, all of them striving for common 
goals and the promotion of good will. Together, they support university interests. Athletic 
events between fraternities provides healthy competition and promotes good sportsmanship. 
The fraternity is not just a place to eat, sleep, and get a beer, but rather an intimate encounter 
with reality and adjustment. 

"There's a law of life as strong as the law of gravity. If you want to live a happy, a successful, 
and a fulfilled life, you've got to learn to love people and use things. Don't use people and 
love things." 

—Will Rogers, August, 1935 

By Diane Hudock 


Julie Adler 
Ruth Adler 
Sherri Alpert 
Jaymi Bachman 
Stephanie Band 
Linda Beir 
Holly Berkowitz 
Betsy Bernard 
Joanne Birnberg 
Debbie Blindman 
Susan Braverman 
Kathy Chod 
Bobbi Cohn 
Debbie Crown 
Jolie Eisenberg 
Kathy Epstein 
Jane Feingerts 
Olga Feldman 
Nancy Fisher 
Lou Ann Flanz 
Bonni Flesher 
Sherri Garland 
Marcee Glazer 
Barbara Goldberg 
Midge Goldsmith 
Debbie Goldstein 
Sherri Gordon 
Margot Gruman 
Sandra Hallet 
Sherry Hecht 
Debbie Jarrett 
Sue Katten 
Judy Kent 
Jodi Kodish 

Susan Lapidus 

Judi Lapinsohn 

Tracy Lees 

Abbe Levin 

Penny Lichtman 

Debbie Luskey 

Gloria May 

Karen Meister 

Margaret Meyer 

Carolyn Mintz 

Michele Molino 

Julie Optican 

Lisa Perlmutter 

Leslie Pick 

Cheryl PoUman 

Diane Rapaport 



Ava Rosenberg 

Celia Rosenson 

Lisa Rosenstein 

Karen Rosenthal 

Suzi Sachter 

Janet Schendle 

Louise Schwartz 

Cindy Shapiro 

Susan Shainock 

Mindy Sloan 

Leslie Spanierman 

Caro Uhlmann 

Jean Veta 

Amy Weil 

Nancy Weifigrow 

Bettsie Wershil 



Libby Watson 

Maureen Cronan 

Scheyler Ruhlman 

Louise Ferrand 

Lynn Bina 

Agnes Burhoe 

Linda Eddins 

Helena Naughton 

Becky Olivera 

Jan Trimble 

Sherry Chapman 

Patsy Cox 

Paula Eyrich 

Jill Frankel 


Bruce Adams 
Scott Boudreaux 
Keith Bowman 
Kevin Bowman 
Frank Bruno 
]oe Bruno 
Brian Buendia 
Charles Caldwell 
Keith Cangelosi 
Taylor Casey 
Chet Chidester 
Steven Crane 
Luis del Valle 
Mike Driscoll 
Tobie Eason 
Richard Ellis 
Chris Ewin 
John Finzer 
Jeff Forbes 
Constantine Georges 
Anrew Hague 
Scott Handler 
Cecil Haskins 

Bob Hughes 

Keith Jacomine 

Paul Jessen 

Steve Jones 

Thomas Kingsmill 

Mark Lutenbacher 

Burke Madigan 

Thomas Manson 

Rene Martinez 

Marty Mayer 

Pat McCullough 

Richard Melton 

Barry Meyer 

Doug Miele 

Harry Molaison 

Thomas Nice 

Bill Parsons 

Paul Porter 

Bill Starr 

Carl Sturges 

Robert Sutter 

Bo Trumbo 

Guy Cannata 



Herb Ashe 
George Bryant 
Tom Bucher 
Clark Charbonnet 
Kevin Coleman 
Andy Chopivsky 
Jay Culotta 
Scott Dash 
Carlos DeSalazar 
Gene Elliot 
Chris Greene 
Parker Heffron 
Sean Kelly 
Beau Koch 
Steve Little 
Chris Maker 
Alton Martin 

Bill Molony 


John Ott 

Mark Patterson 

Nick Powell 

Rick Powfell 

Donald Quinlan 

Bob Ramirez 

Bob Redman 


Terry Schnuck 

Mike Schornslein 

Bob Sellers 

Jeff Stanton 

George Sotiropolos 

Larry Wald 


Martha Adkins 
Kim Austin 
Diana Banks 
Margaret Brown 
Connie Carter 
Virginia Carswell 
Debbie Cates 
Mimi Colledge 
Nancy Collins 
Vivian Deschapelles 
Jennifer Dillaha 
Renee Downing 
Mary Doyle 
Helen Dyer 
Shauna Fitzjarrell 
Nancy Foster 
Sarah Fox 
Paula Godsey 
Carol Graham 
Margaret Gregory 
Sally Guider 
Liz Haecker 
Cygne Habn 
Claire Hammett 
Ellen Hauck 
Nancy Hedemann 
Dawn Harrington 
Marie Higgins 
Virginia Holbrook 
Peggy Hopkins 
Debbie Jessup 
Gretchen Joachin 
Julianne ]ones 
Laure Kiser 
Ann Law 
Ginger Legeai 

Lou Lembert 
Kaka Mabry 
Chris Macleod 
Pam Martz 
Vicki Matson 
Kay McArdle 
Melissa McGinn 
Trish Meginniss 
Peggy Meyer 
Mary Gay Molony 
Leslie Muller 
Cathy Norman 
Genny Nottingham 
Sally Nungesser 
Rosemary Ozanne 
Gwen Palmer 
Cindy Phillips 
Linda Pixler 
Terryl Propper 
Jeanne Rader 
Melissa Ruman 
Donna Rushton 
Donna Schwartz 
Belle Stafford 
Vickie Stephan 
Gwen Sylvest 
Martha Taylor 
Cindy Teavis 
Mary Tull 
Cathy Watson 
Emily White 
Camille Wingo 
Beth Winn 
Anne Wynn 


tf f i-r 

Woody Banks 
John Beatrous 
Robert Bland 
Ricky Blum 
James Broadwell 
Ronald Brumley 
Ted Buchanan 
Karl Clifford 
George Durant 
Bert Eichold 
LeDoux Faust 
Dickie Fox 
Gary Fretz 
Charles Garrison 
Allen Jones 
John Koch 
Dave Koch 
Dave L'Hoste 
Beau Loker 
Philip Loria 
Barlow Mann 
Peter McEnery 

Frank McRoberts 

Tommy Meric 

Kevin O'Bryon 

John O'Connor 

Alston Palmer 

Steve Parker 

Hugh Penn 

Chris Peragine 

Steve Richardson 

Randy Rogers 

John St. Raymond 

Blair Scanlon 

Jay Schmitt 

Dave Schemel 

Mike Simpson 

Drake Sloss 

Benton Smallpage 

Richard Smallpage 

Vance Smith 

Whit Smith 

Ben Waring 





Torn Hopkins 
Bill Thornton 
Brian Boutte 
Mark Rosenberg 
Mark Simon 
William Bell 
Ric Cummings 
Grady Hurley 
Davis Nolan 
Mark Thalheim 
Dan Anderson 
]im Beskin 
Gene Gibson 
Bob McClesky 
Mike Smith 
Ed Bush 

Brian Fitzpatrick 
Danny Joe Garraer 

Ron Goodwin 

Bob Horsley 

William Howard 


Terry McLean 


Mike Rinella 

Dana Wallach 

Dicky Palfrey 

Tad Daniels 

Reid Senter 

Buddy Whitty 

Gary Hahn 

Dave Taylor 

Ferd Lorio 

Ron Woodall 

Gary Barrett 

George Tate 


Alma Alexander 
Palmer Alexander 
Beverly Baker 
Cindy Cerise 
Debbie Davies 
Amy Dillon 
Mary Dow 
Anne Drummond 
Nancy Eagen 
Emily Ellis 
Paula Gish 
Suzie Haik 
Joanie Heausler 
Nancy Heausler 
Alice Hinton 
Diane Hudock 
Maiwer Ingraham 
Lyn Keller 
Karen Kilgore 
Dawn Klemow 
Lorna McMullen 
Kelly Merritt 
Eileen Newiser 
Ellen Prewitt 
Jeannine Powell 
Vicki Reggie 
Lark Reny 
]an Smith 
Dodie Spencer 
Leesa Suddath 
Lisa Thomas 
Claire Waggenspack 

Cati Wilcox 


Laurel Allen 

Jane Auzine 

Wanda Barrett 

Terri Benson 

Jeanne Bonner 

Julie Brown 

Molly Carl 

Carol Clarke 

Shawn Cook 

Margaret David 

Kathryn Dillon 

Cathy Douglas 

Marina Elliott 

Marion Eyraud 

Kate Herman 

Vicky Jackson 

Kathy Morris 

Kim Morris 

Susan Marr 

Phyllis Nachman 

Patti Nierman 

Dody O'Connor 

Anne Ponton 

Debbie Server 

Kim Shaw 

Pat Van Baskirk 

Diana Williams 

Liz Williams 

Kathy van Baskirk 

Margaret laniss 


Joann Aicklen 
Joni Anderson 
Diane Andrus 
Lisa Austin 
Celeste Bertucci 
Sarah Blanchard 
Carla Bloom 
Lucie Bostick 
Marti Breen 
Debbie Broadwell 
Louise Brown 
Nenetta Carter 
Elvige Cassard 
Anne Churchill 
Beth Cloninger 
Michele Coiron 
Ann Collins 
Shari Cox 
Anne Craighead 
Stella Curtis 
Janet Daly 
Mary Davidson 
Dottie Davis 
Kathy Edwards 
Janice Eittreim 
Sally Elghammer 
Betsy Freidt 
Sallie Grier 
Bunny Habliston 
Lesa Hall 
Holly Hawkins 
Cynthia Heaberlin 
Nan Heard 
Shawn Holahan 
Chris Hoerner 
Mary Preston Horn 
Katie Hovas 
Ruth Howell 

Debbie Jaffe 

Jenny Jones 

Karen Keil 

Dee Dee Kenworthy 

Liz Kilgore 

Shirley Landen 

Nancy Brown Lawler 

Sue Lynch 


Lisa Mason 

DeDe McFayden 

Sue Mersman 

Cynthia Miller 

Kathy Miller 

Brenda Myers 

Colle Ochsner 

Missy Ochsner 

Anne Oldfather 

Jeanene Parker 

Leigh Pratt 

Para Pryor 

Priscilla Pumphrey 

Caroline Robertson 

Alice Rush 

Carol Sanders 

Jean Scott 

Ann Shashy 

Katie Shirkey 

Mecklin Stevens 

Nanette Stevens 

Rebel Story 

Grace Tabb 

Louise Texada 

Madelaine Turegano 

Gladys Van Horn 

Clarissa Walker 

Sally Warren 

Leigh Zeigler 


Grace Agresti 
Stacy Alver 
Bonnie Baine 
Lisa Barkley 
Dana Bennett 
lulie Bethel! 
Karen Bishoff 
Claire Blaine 
Bobbie Boyd 
Lindsay Bricg 
Becky Brock 
Marcia Brown 
Susie Brown 
Catherine Chisolm 
Joanie Cleary 
Karen Cochran 
Sa Coleman 
Dru Crabtree 
Liz Cranston 
Libby Danielson 
Debbie Darnell 
Andrea Darks 
Denise Downing 
Mina Eagan 
Monnie Eubanks 
Mary Jane Fenner 
Kaki Ferris 
Betsy Field 
Debbie Fredrick 
Holly Graves 
Lisa Hall 

Susan Hemard 

Kitty Hoselton 

Catherine Howell 

Lucinda Huffman 

Cyndy Ittner 

Madeline Johbson 

Caroline Loker 

Mary Anne Meadows 

Laurie McRoberts 

Colleen Miller 

Kathryn Betts Miller 

Kathryn Miller 

Linda Perez 

Zane Probasco 

Louise Ragsdale 

Vonee Roneau 

Sue Richard 

Jodie Sartor 

Polly Sartor 

Janise Schrader 

Camille Simpson 

Leigh Spearman 

Bitsy Stewart 

Jane Stockmeyer 

Martha Talbot 

Susan Tober 

Charlotte Waguespack 

Diane Williams 

Frannie McCoy 

Susie Crouera 

Debbie Loziar 



Clyde Banner 
Charle Barton 
John Bilyi 
John Boudreauz 
Jim Braun 
Tommy Brown 
Bob Buesinger 
Curt Cowan 
Greg Gardiol 
Mike Carbo 
Dave Hartzell 
Rusty Hurst 
Jim Kinsey 
Dave Lewis 
Tom O'Neil 
Doug Peart 
Curt Radford 
Rick Rees 
Corey Scher 
Al Schuhz 
Rem Smith 
Paul Vander Heyden 
Greg Wyrick 

Ronny Barrios 

Dick Bedford 

Andy Broaddus 

Paul Bronstein 

Rick Brown 

Max Cannon 

Pete Dalacos 

Mike Gordon 

Jon Guben 

Mike Heine 

Dave Indorf 

Tim Lathe 

Fred Nagel 

Mark Oswald 

John Peterson 

Dan Rutherford 

Mark Scharre 

Martin Scheil 

Skipper Scott 

Tom Stallings 

Rich Wilkinson 

Bob Zito 


Ann Troitino 
Sara Sandrock 
Lee-Lee Prina 
Liz Lipscombe 
Allison Huebner 
Rosemary Dozier 
Betsy Skinner 
Janice Garfield 
Annette Armstrong 
Linda Barker 
Pam Berton 
Slyvia Burson 
Sharon Conyer 
Mary Anne Creekmore 
Mimi Daniel 
Cookie Delery 
Liz Dietrich 
Barb Easley 
Meg Greene 
Heather Guttenberg 
Adee Heebe 
Jill Ingram 
Heidi Junius 
Gerdie Kalnow 
Karen Kruebbe 
Debbie Martin 
Page McLendon 
Karen McLafferdy 
Cara Miller 
Nathalie Mongeau 
Darlene Montjure 
Susan Moore 
Gail Morgan 
Shelly Picard 
Simone Pibie 

Pam Poole 

Dana Popovich 

Rikka Pullium 

Maureen Quinn 

Allison Raynor 

Miriam Richter 

Kyle Rovira 

Patty Scallet 

Janice Simmons 

Becky Six 

Carol Sloss 

Marcia Smith 

Ginger Strade 

Nancy Sullivan 

Julie Stephens 

Shirley Richardson 

Marcia Teitgen 

Margaret Wade 

Winnie Watlzer 

Dianne Ward 

Cathy Wattley 

Cindy Weeks 

Ann Welch 

lone Whitlock 

Elizabeth Willis 

Stella Wright 

Laura Zink 

Carolyn Rossi 

Debiruth Stanford 

Susan Savage 

Dee Rourke 

Leslie Andelman 

Leslie Gaitens 

Kyle Walker 


Lee Alig 
Joe Amberson 
Dee Archer 
Wilbur Baird 
Mike Bertucci 
Philip Bertucci 
Mark Boyce 
Edward Breland 
Keith Budner 
Steve Buerger 
Rob Burns 
Ricky Calhoun 
John Chamberlain 
Buergess Chambers 
Charles Cox 
Frank Davis 
Dixon Dossett 
Neil Dunaway 
William Edwards 
Joe Fitzgibbons 
Buck Forcum 
Jack Fortier 
Cliff Hall 
Paul Higbee 
Dick Hoffman 
Britt Howard 
Steve Jacobs 
Tom Jobin 
Brian Kolowich 
Chuck Lepeyre 

Philip Lepeyre 

Joe Liberato 

Jim Lazar 

Jay Manning 

John McClung 

Brad Moore 

Mike O'Conner 

Jay Pegues 

Curtis Pellerin 

John Pratt 

Louis Provenza 

Doug Schnitzer 

Bill Shea 

Jim Silverstein 

Clint Smith 

Edward Smith 

Mike Stoltz 

Jack Taylor 

Cullen Thomas 

Vick Thomas 

Bill Walker 

John Wallace 

Doug Walton 

Kevin Ward 

Charles White 

Storm Wilson 

Tom Wyllie 

Buck Wynne 

Dave Young 

John Zimmerman 


Watts Wacker 
George Lipscomb 
Andy Holcombe 
Mark Miehle 
Less Condom 
Howard Taubovitz 
Melvin Paret 
Fritz Gurtler 
Ed Burr 
Skippy Peglow 
Ewell Gariepy 
Chris Allen 
Warren Chandler 
Chip Travis 
Paul Frederick 
Pete Termine 
Mark Schrader 
Prep Glenn 
Paul Brock 
Frank Moon 
Kimsey Davis 
Oliver Delery 
Rich Sobalot 
Mark Shina 
Stewart Given 
Sam Gentles 
Don Ho Cosby 
Teek Kiernan 
Buzzy Heasler 

Tom Niesan 

Jim Sammartino 

Jeff Alvisowitz 

Ken Gutzeit 

Steve Menzies 

Ira Krotchmeyer 

Gregg Collins 

Harry Gutf reund 

Scott Johnston 

Jerry Lineberger 

Pat Toole 

Mark Tipton 

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Tony Gregorio 

Steve Dehmlow 

John Miner 

Pete Alfaro 

Todd Eckert 

Wilmott Place 

John Bovaird 

Mark Harman 

Michael Gurtler 

Bob Posprick 

John O'Donnel 

Cholly Kurzweg 

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Robbie Hoy 

Dave Knight 

Peter Thomson 

«' ... 


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Bill Scholz 

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Scott Cristal 

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Howard Gandler 

Bennett Davis 








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Lloyd Adams 

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Linda Land 
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Lisa D. Leach 
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Frederick Lehman 

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Michael Leumas 

Robert A. Levine 

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Tim S. Mescon 

Jannette S. Mexic 

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Patricia M. Miller 

Paul C.Mitchell 

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Brad Moore 

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Janis L. Moyer 

Maureen A. Murphy 

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Davis Nolan 

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Robert M. Weber 

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Bill Abernathy 
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Evelyn M. Ainsworth 

Khan A. Akmal 
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Trish Allen 
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Nancy J. Chenette 

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Marc J. Magids 
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Harvey L. May 

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Jane Mickey 
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Gregory S. Parry 

Kathleen A. Paxton 

Liz S, Perwin 

Andy J. Peters, Jr. 
Stephen P. Peterson 
J. L. Petligrew 
Steven M. Pincus 
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Dana E. Popovich 

RossO. Pottschmidt 

Scott C.Powell 

Michael T. Power 

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Leonard H. Adoff 

Joann K. Aicklen 

Mark M. Alexander 

Dale B.Allen 

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Amelia H. Amon 

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Ann M. Arnoult 

Dana D. Austin 

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Drew Ballina 

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Marc A. Barinbaum 

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Evelyn M. Barraza 

NandaL. Barrett 

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Renia P. Biernacki 

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Morris A. Bloom 

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Frank M. Brady 
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Lisa B. Bresenoff 
Howard R. Bromley 

Blair G. Brown 
Marcia H. Brown 
Robert A. Brown 
Thomas M. Brown 
James E. Bruckart 
Thomas Bucker 

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Robert F. Buesinger 
Jonathan Buka 
Maureen M. Burke 
Steven M. Burr 
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Michael D. Carbo 
John B. Casseb 

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Joyce R. Day 
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Thaderine C. Dolliole 
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Charles J. Edelberg 

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Gail A. Ehrlich 

Karin E. Elkis 

Liz A. EUaby 

Gene B.Elliot 

Marina B.Elliott 

Gina A. Ello 

Morgan G. Earnest 

Tobin J, Eason 

Jonathan R. Elyachar 

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Christophr S. Ewin 

Michael C. Fajgenbaum 

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Jim Fazzino 

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Mary Jane S. Fenner 

Betsy Field 

Paul T. Finger 

Diana L. Fischman 

Brian A. Fitzjarrell 

Bonni L. Flesher 

Tom Focht 

John F. Fortier 

Ron E. Fox 

Larry E. Francioni 

Gary L. Frazier 

Gretchen E. Freeman 

Terry A. Freiberg 

Betsy T. Friedt 

Leslie A. Gaitens 

Jerry 1. Gardner 

Lynn S. Garson 

John G. Gast 

Matthew Geller 

Brian R. George 

Bruce J. Giaimo 

Richard A. Gibson 

Michael D. Gilder 

Cynthia L. Gili 

Betsey G. Click 

Robert S. Gold 

Bobbi Gollin 

Gay M. Gomex 

Bruce R. Goodman 

Sharon R. Goodspeed 

Oianne B. Gorbach 

Sberrie L. Gordon 

Steven R. Gordon 

Brad Goss 

Thomas E. Grabam 

Gerard Graulich 

Allen H. Graves 

Robert S. Greenbaum 

Gene R. Griffith 
Chuck K. Grigg 
Debbie L. Grossman 
Margot S. Gruman 
Sally R.Guider 
Andrew Hague 

Janet E. Hall 
Penny L. Halter 
Lawrence C. Hamm 
Claire J. Hararaett 
Virginia E. Hammond 
Greg Han 

Clark T. Hancock 
Jonathan S. Harbuck 
Chip F. Harris 
Joshua B. Harris 
Robert Heaton 
William A. Heausler 

Fred E. Herman 
Barry J. Hickman 
Prentice N. Hicks 
Brian A. Hill 
Norman D. Hines 
Madolyn A. Hingle 

Virginia C. Holbrook 
Marion Hoilings 
Angela N. HoUoway 
Michael L. Hoover 
Susan A. Horowitz 
Susan V. Horowitz 

Virginia C. House 
Janet L. Howard 
Wynn E. Howard 
James D. Hudson 
Lise J. Illingworth 
Marsha J. Ingram 

Jules R. Ivester 
Nancy W. Jewell 
Quentin B. Johnson 
Michael N. Jones 
Jewel A. Jurovich 

Morris L. Kahn 
Christy Kane 
Mark A. Kaplan 
Suzanne J. Karkus 
Kevin J. Karl 
Cort Katker 

David S. Keim 
David A. Keir 
Mary Ann Kennedy 
Patrick B. Kennedy 
Paul R. Kenvi 
Denny D. Kerr 

Kenneth S. Ketzoff 
Lucy B. King 
John B. Kirk 
Kale L. Kirven 
David Knight 
Carlos J. Knoepffler 

Suzan Kobey 

Albert W. Koch 

George Koch 

Blake S.Krass 

Martin A. Krongold 

William S. Kuhn 

Wayne D. Kurzner 

Rejbin K. Kurzweil 

James A. Kutten 

Shirley A. Landen 

Richard D, Landers 

Mark D. Landry 

Charles M. Lane 

]oan Lang 

Timothy J. Lathe 

Sheldon K. Latos 

Margaret W. Leach 

Georges E. Leblanc 

Nate A. Lee 

Bina Lefkovitz 

Lawrence Lehman 

Michael Lender 

Louis J. Leo 

Carlos A. Leon 

William R. Lester 

Robert D. Levenstein 

Susan Levin 

Marc H. Levy 

John W. Lewis 

Keith G. Liberman 

Howard L. Lippton 

Douglas S. Lipton 

George Long 

Carolyn J. Low 

Debi X. Luis 

Gregory E. Lyman 

Ricardo J. MacPherson 

William L. Maiman 

Marie E. Malizia 

Danny S. Mandel 

Patricia F. Marchand 

Joel D.Marcus 

William D. Mason 

Steve A. Massell 

Gloria E. May 

Jerry L. Mayo 

Robert E. McGill 

Rob E. McNeilly 

Mary A. Meadows 

Alvaro J. Medeiros 

Gary M. Meeks 

Karen S. Meister 

LoriM. Melln 

Mark Mendal 

Jerry T. Mewcombe 

Kathleen Miller 

Wayne W. Minehart 

Carolyn R. Mintz 

Robert G. Mitchell 

ScoH D. Mlain 

Charles R. Moir, Jr. 
Harry J. Molligan 
Yvonne Monies 
Susan L. Montgomery 
Mary S. Moore 
Theresa L. Moore 

Steven Morris 
Lizette Moschella 
Andy J. Moscow 
Dana L. Moses 
John G. Mosko 
Curtis C. Mosley 

Kevin M. Murphy 
Paul S. Musco 
Phyllis E. Nachman 
Lawrence Nadel 
Clifton P. Nary 
Sabina Negrea 

Kenny I. Nelkin 
James E. Nix 
Scott Norton 
Lisa S. Novick 
Carey T. O'Connor 
Dorothy A. O'Connor 

Michael D. Oertling 
Thomas A. O'Neil 
Charles T. Orihel 
John L. Ott 
Laura R. Ouverson 
Terrance M. Owens 

Lynn A. Parry 
Edward L. Patterson 
James A. Paulson 
John L. Payton 
Tom I. Perkins 
Rita A. Perry 

Anthony B. Petereit 
JohnR. Peterson 
Quentin Phillips 
Verre S. Picard 
Leslie Pick 
Simone Pilie 

Charles P. Pizzo 
Eugene F. Pollingue 
Robert W. Pospick 
Mark E. Powell 
Mary Prados 
Ben A. Prager 

Jack E. Pratt 
GregF. Ptacek 
Michael S. Purdy 
Oonal G. Quinlan 
Maureen E. Quinn 
Robert F. Quinn 

Susan L. Ragde 
Rafael A. Ramirez 
Allison F. Raynor 
Ray M. Reed 
James V. Reuter 
Julia A. Reynolds 


Robert J. Rice 

Richard A. Ripberger 

David R.Riter 

Rene J. Robert 

Elizabeth R.Roberts 

Mark Robinson 

Peter B. Robinson 

Raul P. Rodriguez 

James R. Rosenberg 

Lisa Rosenslein 

Mel S.Rosenthal 

David Rosner 

Ronald J. Roth 

Deirdre M. Rourke 

Melissa K. Ruman 

Alice J. Rush 

Richard A. Rush 

Robin A. Rushton 

Daniel C.Rutherford 

Missy B.Rutland 

Robert N. Ryan 

Muhamed Sacirbey 

Luke J. Sanna 

Pamela S. Scanlon 

Gerard A. Scardino 

Brad I. Schandler 

John D. Schemel 

Susan J. Schimmel 

Walter J. Schneider 

Arnold B. Schoenberg 

AltonC. Schultz, III 

Jeff Schuster 

Donna A. Schwartz 

Gary R. Schwartz 

William A. Scott 

Frank E. Seeling, III 

Sheila L. Seig 

Richard Sellers 

Harold Sender 

Reid Senter 

Deborah L. Server 

Cindy R. Shapiro 

Kim D. Shaw- 
Sara L. Shaw 
William W. Shea 
Daine L Shelton 
Eric K. Shepard 
Sonny Shields 

Samuel L. Silverstein 

Pieter A. Sloterdijk 

Clinton L Smith 

Marcia C. Smith 

Rem Smith 

Thomas P. Smith 

Scott A. Snyder 

Daniel W. Sommer 

Donald J. Stafford 

John B. Stanley 

Arlene R. Stanton 

]ames R. Staten 

Craig Stephens 
)an E. Stern 
Michael A. Storm 
Gerardo Suarez 
R. Scott Sullivan 
Cathy Supman 

Marcia K. Teitgen 
Janice M. Terry 
Mary L- Texada 
Mark VV. Tipton 
Stuart Tobet 
Kathy J. Townley 

Gregory J. Trapp 
Madeline Treating 
John Turner 
Yasmin Usmani 
Walter L. Van Der Kar 
Susan B. Van Hees 

Jose Vegas 

Christian J. Vernosky 
Mary Beth Von Oehsen 
Eugene D. Von Rosenberg 
Daniel L. VVaddell 
Margaret L. Wade 

Fred J. Wagner 
John C. Walker 
Linda K.Walker 
David L. Waller 
Franklin W. Waller 
Carolyn M. Wampold 

Kevin K.Ward 
Joseph E. Warren 
Parker F. Waters 
Mark L. Watson 
Stewart L. Wechsler 
Susie ]. Wedlan 

Amy J. Weil 
Bob M. Weingrad 
Bettsie D. Wershil 
Ann M. Wierman 
Mike M. Wilkinson 
Elizabeth H. Williams 

Pat Williams 
Robert A. Williams 
Ray B.Willie 
Elizabeth D.Willis 
Jessalyn A. Wilscam 
Warren G. Windsor 

Larry D. Wink 
James E. Wisner 
Michael J. Wiss 
Keith L. Wolfe 
Richard C. Wong 
KamB. Yap 

Lawrence M. Yore 
Philip A. Zellner 
Deborah C. Ziegler 
John P. Zimmerman 
Robert J. Zito 
Juan M. Zuniga, Jr. 


JUniOR Ve/IR /1DRO/1D 

The Junior Year Abroad (JYA) Program 
offers to qualified third year students at 
Tulane and Newcomb the opportunity to 
live and study in a foreign country for one 
year. The Program allows students to 
broaden and enrich their education while 
still pursuing their college career. Among 
the many advantages that accompany a 
change of scenery, living abroad adds a new 
dimension to a student's outlook. Americans 
abroad can gain new perspectives for self- 
evaluation and the evaluation of American 

The countries included in JYA are Great 
Britain, France, Germany, and Italy. 
Although candidates are selected on the 
basis of fairly high academic standards 
(a 3.3 average for England, Scotland, and 
Wales, and a 3.0 average for the other 
countries) it is something that is well worth 

trying for. If anything else, JYA provides a 
break in the monotony of spending four 
years in one place. Also, one must not forget 
the fringe benefits: skiing in the Alps at 
Christmas; the availability of cheap trans- 
portation, good food, and sophisticated 
people throughout Europe; and the close 
proximity of the greatest cities in the world, 
London, Paris, and Rome. 

The most challenging and entertaining 
program Tulane University has to offer "are 
the words of one JYA student." The cost of 
the Program is equivalent to the Tulane 
tuition, and the lower cost of living offsets 
the expense of travel. 

Next year's JYA students going to Great 
Britain are crossing over on the Queen 
Elizabeth II. It is hard to imagine a better 
bargain, and it sure beats sitting on the steps 

James R. Adams 


Marne Anderson 


Mark Beuhler 


Patricia Bowen 


Sharon Buchalter 


Emily Clark 


Cindy Cloninger 


Richard Cranford 


Karen Curtin 


Stuart Dean 


Gary Dent 


Ivan Diaz 


Mary Dierdorff 


Andrew Ericson 


Susan Folse 


Timothy Geiszler 
Arthur Gerber 

Richard D. Goldblatt 
Susan Gordon 

Tommie Graham 
Michael Guiliani 

Thomas Haspel 
Clare Hooper 

Billy Huey 
Regina Inniss 






-»5' -C?^ 

Amy Kahn 


< ■: 1 

Sheree Kornman 



Dennis Newman 



Libby McLean 


V / 

Lorna McMullen 


James Miller 


Jane Pace 


Jeffrey Pauldine 


Patricia Prieto 


Lamar Riley 


Susan Ryder 
Scott Salk 

Susan Savage 
J.S. Sheth 

John Silak 




D'Arcy Smylie Scotland 

Summerlynne Solop England 

Ann Stewart Germany 

Anne-Marie Sweeney Wales 

Kathleen Van Buskirk England 

Guy Wall 


Alina Washington 


VIosteller M. Wheeler 


Billie V. Willis 


Billy H. Wilson 



On The Boat 

Andrew Bagon 


Claudia Baumgarten 


Guy Cannata 


Elise Dunitz 


Marilyn Gillespie 


Margaret Innis 


Robert Karp 


Nancy Kistler 


Edward Mogabgab 


Richard Wiggers 





CMSS OF 1976 

1. Mark Berry 

2. David Heberl 

3. Robyn Tyler 

4. Bruce Razza 

5. Bill Bailey 

6. Carolyn Mohr 

7. James Cook 

8. Will Simmons 

9. BobMcLeroy 

10. Anthony Bouligny 

11. Skip Williams 

12. Dick Herklots 

13. Rick Harris 

14. Leslie Hightower 

15. Mike Neuland 

16. JohnSlallworth 

17. James Dodson 

18. Carter Crouch 

19. Andy Sumner 

20. Phil Henderson 

21. John Carter 

22. Jim Bushart 

23. Rich Sugar 

24. Donald Schexnayder 

25. Katherine McArthur 

26. Dave Harris 

27. Curtis Miles 

28. David Ferriss 

29. George Stewart 

30. Ann Price 

31. Dennis Shoff 

32. Ron Tompkins 

33. Bill Gottviiald 

34. Pat Herrington 

35. Paul Anderson 

36. Jeff Kupperman 

37. Rich Stewart 

38. Dave Spencer 

39. Brian Rydwin 

40. Caroline MacLeod 

41. Steve Cobb 

42. Thom Franklin 

43. George Rodgers 

Salpi Adrouny 
John Agnone 
William Anderson 
Allen Ball 
James Barron 
Dave Bauman 

David Bell 
Rafael Blanco 
Karl Blythe 
Robert Bourgeois 
Sheila Brown 
Thomas Burguieres 
Thrassos Calligas 
Dan Caplan 
Bernard Cohen 
Ken Counselman 
Branch Craige 
Charles Creasman 
Anna Davis 
Dan Davis 
Elizabeth Deering 
Diane Deveines 
Wesley Dobrain 
Bob Dorwart 
Greg Dwyer 
Neal Faux 
Richard Finley 
Mark Forman 
Leonard Gately 
Ted Gay 
Lynn Going 
Jim Gosey 
Pam Groben 
Rich Guess 
Steve Harkness 
Mike Harris 
Roderick Harris 
Glenn Hedgpeth 
Mike Hewson 
Mike Hickey 
Minas Joannides 
Jan Johnson 
Marc Kahgan 
Joe Kandiko 
Roger Kelley 
John Kelly 
Bill Kepper 
Bob Kitchen 
Barry Leader 
Jim Lemire 
Lillian Lesser 
Tom Levy 
Robert L'Hoste 
Stan Longenecker 
Laurence Lotz 

William Luer 
Barbara Lukash 
Hap Luscher 
Rick Manganaro 
Neil Manowitz 
Mary Martin 
James McCrory 
Robert Miles 
Lee Moss 
George Murphy 
Mike Mycoskie 
Kenneth Olander 
Glenn Palmisano 
Gerlie Papillion 
John Pemberton 
Uwe Pontius 
Ron Quinton 
Marleta Reynolds 
Robert Rice 
Steve Rice 
Sam Robinson 
Lee Rodgers 
Katherine Rover 
Ed Saer 

Cynthia Sandlin 
Rick Sands 
James Scheu 
Norman Scott 
Cecile Sherrod 
Flo Shoaf 
Candy Smith 
William Smith 
Gary Snell 
Jeanne Stangle 
Charles Stedman 
Lou Steplock 
Phil Synar 
Lauralee Thompson 
Lewis Townsend 
Robert Townsend 
Eliane Uninsky 
Gerald V'ocke 
Rand V'oorhies 
Michael Wall 
Charles Watts 
Robert Welch 
Bruce Wheeler 
William Yarbrough 




' Jh 

CMSS OF 1977 

1. Mike Pinnolis 

2. Julianne Huber 

3. John Meyers 

4. Mike Moses 

5. Chuck O'Brien 

6. Gary Robertson 

7. Larry Kaiser 

8. Steve Cavalier 

9. Annie Graham 

10. John Reinsch 

11. Glenn Morris 

12. Roger Orth 

13. Bozo Moses 

14. Loyd Whitley 

15. Dave Golden 

16. Charles Pucevich 

17. Douglas Johnson 

18. Richard Richoux 

Jennifer Allen 
Robert Allen 
Robert Ammarell 
Genaro Arriola 
Charles Bahn 
Susan Baker 
Mike Barry 
Al Behling 
Andrew Benson 
Bruce Berger 
Larry Bonham 
Steve Boudreaux 
Mike Boulter 
William Bradford 
Benny Camel 
Chris Campbell 
Tom Campbell 
Idah Cannon 
Kimbroe Carter 
Nona Chiampi 
Tom Cornell 
Pam Cummins 
Evita Currie 
Richard Davis 
Adejunti Dawodu 
John Day 
Frank Dienst 
John Dietrich 
Tom Dlugos 
Janice Donahue 
Ted Eilenberg 

George Ellis 
George England 
Steve Eskind 
George Ettel 
Blackwell Evans 
Dick Feuille 
Dennis Franklin 
Marc Fritz 
Christopher Gilbert 
Marilyn Goepfert 
Lloyd Gueringer 
Manning Hanline 
Charles Hatchette 
Roger Hatchette 
Frederick Hebeler 
David Hicks 
Steve Higbtower 
Julian Hill 
James Holmes 
Richard Houk 
John Hyslop 
Ken Jones 
Wayne Julian 
George Kantor 
Rich Kay 
Kevin Krane 
Michael Lam 
John LaMartina 
Sam Lassoff 
Ken Lazarus 
Marc Mailer 
Joe Mason 
Charles Mathews 
Michael Mayer 
Joseph Mayo 
Carl McAllister 
Al McDaniel 
Mike McDermott 
Christopher McDougal 
Pam McLain 
Karen Miller 
Orderia Mitchell 
Christy Montegut 
Mike Morse 
Alan Murphy 
Melvin Murrill 
Kenneth Nix 
John Olivier 
Pam O'Neal 
Barbara Palmisano 
Ed Parry 

Peter Palriarca 
Arnold Penix 
James Perrien 
Nicholas Picariello 
Brent Prather 
Gary Prechter 
Ralph Prows 
Susan Puis 
Dallin Randolph 
Marilyn Ray 
Kathy Reardon 
Larry Redden 
William Reinbold 
Woody Rice 
James Robertson 
Joseph Ronaghan 
Michael Rooney 
James Salisbury 
John Sams 
Mark Sanders 
Celia Satterwhite 
David Schenk 
Judd Shafer 
Don Sharp 
George Sledge 
Peter Sosnow 
John Stephenson 
Charles Stewart 
Loretta Sullivan 
Thomas Sultenfuss 
John Sweeney 
Lee Terrell 
Sam Tilden 
Roger Tsai 
Maria Valiente 
Woody Van Horn 
Peter Van Trigt 
Mike Wasserman 
Betsy Watt 
Rebecca Weber 
Thomas Weed 
William Wells 
Charles Wilkins 
Alan Woodward 
John Wright 
Dean Yamaguchi 
Charles Zeanah 
Anne Zimmerlng 
Wayne Zwick 




CMSS Of- 1978 


Ted Koerner 


James Donnell 


Rick Adrounv 


Roger Bonomo 


Paul Goldfarb 


Bill Sear 


Janet Strange 


Neil Robinson 


Wes King 


Steve Horn 




Karen Borman 


Tom Goodwin 


Lucie King 


Martha Crenshaw 


Ken Brooks 


Ken Melton 


James Bruce 


Nathan Fischman 


James Butler 


John Robichaux 


Rich Wallace 


Romel Wrenn 


Brett Mioton 


William LaRosa 


Emmett Chapital 


John Flemming 


Boh Lesser 


Dave Aiken 


Jim Strickland 


Tom Kelly 


Jane Barnwell 


Randy Lillich 


Gary Gansar 


Geoffrey Daugherty 


James Daniel 


Jim Robbins 


Paul Mahlberg 


Jim Barhee 


Andre Lapeyre 


Kathy Posey 


Gerald Hickson 


Gary Nuschler 


Kent Hancock 


Paul Wotowic 


Ellen Buchbinder 


Greg Lux 


Dave Taylor 


Ron Fellman 




Norman Freeman 


Gerry Broussard 


Lidonna Lancaster 


Betty Muller 


Art Hellman 


Clark Ward 


Mike Schur 


Tim Brewerton 


John Wheelock 


Mike Dunham 


Mike Ryan 


Dan Jens 


Bill Byrd 


John Curnes 


Clifford Burns 


Gordon Love 


Clifford Hornhack 


Kurt Jacobson 


Robert Soyers 


Shirley Scott 


Ed Waitt 


Don Cerise 


William Bordelon 


Donna Zivalich 


John Gavin 


Toraas Birriel 


Tom Buchanan 


Paul Benson 


Steve Helwick 


Richard Marshall 


John Vitter 


Linda Harris 


Janis Johnson 


Leigh Ende 


Jacqueline Slaughter 


Ron Victor 


Al Hieshima 




Jon Mason 


Susan May 


Rusty Pierce 


Lolia Gonzales 


Mike Malonev 


Tom Garland 


Steve Bishop 


Bill Hilbert 


Lisa Brothers 


Larry Wooden 


Dennis Gruwell 


Tom Fenzl 



Clayton Griffin 


Dave Simmons 

Larry .Amacker 


William Weiss 


Vince Burke 

Doug .Anderson 


Hud Allender 


Gary Jones 

Sieve Baker 


Debba Shackleton 


Tom McCall 

John Brandon 


Jay Lupin 


Lawrence Christy 

Pat Connell 


Ron Kerr 


Earl Washington 


liam Craig 


Dana DeWitt 


Warren Trask 

Aubrey Galloway 


Thad Barringer 


Scott Smith 

Daniel Halpren 


Kenneth St. Andre 


Joe Ferguson 

Gary Hirsch 


Keith Bradley 


Mike Cohen 


Ham Kelly 


Ned Hallowell 


Tom Burke 

Doris LeBlanc 


Ken Engelhart 


Bill Beacham 

David McNeeley 


James Bennett 


Vickie Hebert 

Michael Ruthrauff 


Valerie Purvin 


Steve Venturatos 

Henry Savery 


Pete Czuleger 


Mike Artman 

Rufus Thomas 


Gary Ripple 


Bob Brock 

Gordon Walker 


Mark Johnson 


Roy Lambert 




Neil A. Armstrong 
Daniel Avanessian 
Ralph P. Bernard 
Daniel R. Blickman 
Timothy Bohan 

Frederic Bonnenf ant 
Michael E. Britt 
Kathleen E. Carlin 
William A. Carpenter 
John M. Cheramie 

Janine A. Collins 
Joe T. Cooper 
Rose D. Drill 
Wes E. Driskill 
Bruce H. Fink 

Thomas J. Harrison 
Gerald E. Herrmann 
Jan P. Juraonville 
Paul G. Lacroix, III 
Stephen W. Lam 

James B. Lane 
Dre Legen 
Jim M. Leming 
Neil P. Levith 
Robert Lippman 

Helen V. Loker 

Graciela L. Lopez 

Kenneth C. Lowstretter 

Edward D. Markle 

Carlos Martinez 

Bryan T. McEnany 

John P. McGlynn 

James P. Merrell 

James W. Pellerin 

Paula A. Perrone 

Serena F. Randolph 
James N. Reynolds 

Thomas J. Rochefort 

Larry Romans 

Richard G. Schuldt 

William A. Settoon 

Terron D. Sims 

Reginald H. Smith, Jr. 

Raphael Spindola 

Robert W. Swasey 

WaiM. Tong 

John B. Vance 

Rousseau Vanvoorhies 337 

Carlos V. Vargas 

Elizabeth N. Watson 


Michael R. Allweiss 
Bill Boyar 

Andrew L. Breffeilh 
Donald R. Burkhaller 
Charles J. Caine 
David]. Cardon 

Michael Cavagrotti 
jean Charles 
Stephen K. Conroy 
Charles T. Curtis 
Glenn P. Dismukes 
William J. Dutel 

Benjamin S. Eichholz 
Louise A. Ferrand 
Ford T. Hardy 
Anne B. Higgins 
EricR. Jones 
Timothy A. Jones 

Jay H. Kern 
Efrera R. Krisher 
Kenneth B. Korbert 
Rose M. Lebreton 
Walter J. Leger 
Richard H. Levenstein 

Carlos Martinez 
Michael J. McNulty 
Rudick J. Murphy, II 
Douglas L. Nicholson 
Alan L. Offner 
Connie Porter 

Evelyn F. Pugh 
John M. Robin 
Leon Sanders, III 
Mark R. Schlomer 
Scott Slonim 
Barry E. Somerstein 

Mark A. Sucher 
Ruth J. Thomas 
Carey R. Varnado 
Michael Weinstock 
William A. Wherwood 
Cheryl E. Wingo 

Tnepe^ rTot miicb nnoujM^ekfl ir? j?oon^ 

y[4k?^UP h€ft4s-g>^M?'iYQti ^^1% P^'^iwtel 1901 Illustration 


Jeffrey T. Agular 

William Bailey 

Franklin D. Beahm 

Van R. Boyette 

Linda A. Burke 

Cynthia L. Eckert 

Gary N. Gerson 

MarkR. Giesser 

Joseph C. Giglio, Jr. 

Campbell VV. Hudson 

Morris H. Hyman 

Carmine A. lannaccone 

Lawrence M. Lehmann 


Carol D. Payne 

Claude F. Reynaud 

Gregory C. Thomas 

Burnice G. Weeks 




James Raymond Angel 

Lelia F. Angel Richard Darrell Cunningham 

Louie Donell Freeman Robert Thomas Grissom 

Dennis Kasimian Stephen Alan Kramer 

Kurt Hoyt Kunzel Leopold DeBlanc Landry, Jr. 

Stephen Mark Lazarus James Michael Meek 

Samuel Walton Parry Priscilla Ethel Perry 

Lehman Kullman Preis, Jr. Freddie Reynolds 

Jerry Dennis Routh Wayne Lowry Watkins 

Brett Houghton Woodard 


Charles Markham Berry III 

Branch Craige III 
Jacquelyn Almeda Going 
Philip Harold Henderson 
William Dayton Smith, Jr. 
Rand Marcel Voorhies 
Jonathon Yen Chan Ching 
Stacey March Johnson 

Gregory Allen Dwyer 
Friedrichs Henry Harris, Jr. 
Samuel Pettigrew Robinson 
James Andrew Sumner 
John Jacob Baehr III 
Elliott Clarke Haley, Jr. 
Alvin Roy Solomon, Jr. 




Bruce Allen 
Deirdre Demetria Boyd 
Paula Abington Burgess 
Warren Lee Chandler 
Charles Leon Hall 
Richard Burnett Jamison 
Jennifer Ann Lehmann 
Melissa Ann McGinn 
Roger Edward Schultz 
John Frederick Stack, Jr. 
John William Youngblood 
Col. William J. Berridge 

John P. McDowell 


Beverly Eileen Briggs 
Roger Allen Burke, Jr. 
Frederic Allan Fernholz 
Grady Schell Hurley 
Douglas Alan Joseph 

Donna Sue Levy 
Serena Fitz Randolph 
Gary Steven Shamis 
David Charles Vogt 
Mrs. Florence Andre 
Prof. Henry L. Mason 
(Assoc. Dean) 





J. Thomas Beale 
Maurice J. Dupre 
Mary Trotter Green 
Peter B. Kastl 
Fred LaMartin 
Chesley S. Lancaster 

Frederick Y. Lee 
Randall E. Marcus 
Joachim D. Meyer 
Stephen O. Nelson 
Steven Marc Paul 
David W. Wieting 


Kerry Bloom 
James C. Cooke 
Michael T. Dunn 
Richard Hindes 

Cindy Anne Leissinger 
Kenneth O. McElrath 
Nick M. Moustoukas 
David D. Reimers 



Jeff Barter 
Warren Chandler 
Bert Eichold 
Frederick Fernholz 
Grady Hurley 
Mark Lampert 
Herbert E. Longenecker 
Tim Mescon 
Charles O'Brien 
John Tavormina 



Steven R. Cohen 
Michael Cypers 
Steven Feigley 
Neil Feingold 
Craig Hurwitz 
Quentin Phillips 
Gary Plotke 
Steven Robbins 
Peter Sloterdijk 
William F. Smith 
Bernard Tanenbaum III 
Steven Vasalech 
Eric Vinokur 
Barry W. Ashe 
Scott A. Norton 
Paul R.Allen 

Louis Glade 
William E. Boesch 
Dewey D. Archer, Jr. 
Marc Barinbaum 
Howard R. Bromley 
Edward J. Callan 
Keith Cangelosi 
William Edwards 
Neil Faggen 
Russell Fiorella 
Lawrence Gilman 
Robert S. Gold 
Bruce Goodman 
Thomas Graham 
Mark Harman 
James Hibbitts 

Michael E. Bennett 
Andrew A. Berman 
Michael Fajgenbaum 
Michael Farley 
John P. Farnen 
Paul A. Ferrara 
John F. Fortier, Jr. 
Larry Gandle 
Luis Guerra 
Harold Henderson 
Michael Hoover 
Jason Jacoby 
Jeffrey A. Matson 
Mark S. Reynolds 
David N. Schell 
William W. Shea 
Randy B. Silverstein 
Richard F. Lombardo 
Robert T. Rider 

Julius Ivester 
Arthur Johnson 
Laurence Kandel 
Richard Knight 
Carlos Lavernia 
Harold Levkowitz 
Marc Levy 
Daniel Mandel 
Calvin Mar 
David McLain 
Paul Musco 
Randolph Peck 
Robert Redman 
Michael Remington 
David Rosner 
David Sausser 
Arnold Schoenberg 
James Slobard 
Stuart Tobet 



Franklin Waller 
Kurt Wiese 
Richard Wolkin 
Stanford Zent 
Michael Schmidt 
Bruce Buckingham 
Tim Culvahouse 
Gary Fitzjarrell 
Gary Frazier 
Susan Wedlan 
Jonathon Barrilleaux 
Kevin Murphy 
Brian Bartholomew 
Robert Burch, Jr. 
Keith Degas 
Thomas Henry 
Patricia Maneille 

Larry Kiser 
Gay Gomez 
Roberta Hawk 
Julia Reynolds 
Dale Allen 
Susan Horowitz 
Verra Picard 
Sylvia Burson 
Deirdre Rourke 
Sarah Coleman 
Lisa Rohrer 
Roxolana Jarema 
Lisa Sable 
Bonnie Baine 
Sherry Hansl 

Mark Mantese 
James V. Reuter III 
Richard Ripberger 
David Cibula 
Linda Barker 
Robert Gilmore 
Lizetter Moschella 
John Payton 
Robert Pospick 
Robert Dvorak 
Annette Bergeron 
Warren Bourgeois III 
James Fouts 
Kan Yap 
Linda White 
Judy Kron 
John Kirk 

Jessalyn Wilscam 
Linda Ewing 
Sharon Greenburg 
Pamela Mearns 
Deborah Rogoff 
Julie Stephens 
Olga Merediz 
Candy Matheny 
Linda Beir 
Susan Foster 
Madolyn Hingle 
Verel Washington 
Mary Meadows 
Amy Jo Weil 
Patricia Nierman 
Marsha Ingram 
Jennifer Wright 
Terry Lees 
Annette Lawrence 





Phyllis Potterf ield Baily 
Barnett Joel Brimberg 
Cecil Charles Broome 
Jill Enid Golden 
Anton George Hajjar 
Corinne Morrison Hopkins 
Frederick Thaddeus Kolb 
Edward Francis LeBreton III 
Stephen David Lobrano 
Daryl Patrick McDonald 
David Milford Naseman 
Richard William Simmons 
Mark S. Stein 
Peter Stephen Title 
Thomas Robert Trotter 
Harvey Deloss Wagar III 
Kenneth Andrew Weiss 
Margaret Emily Woodward 



School of Architecture 
Kathleen J. Amrock 
Gregory A. DeCoursey 
S. Rembert Donelson 
Ivan Diaz 

Jonathon W. Ericson 
Brian E. Faucheux 
Jose Fernandez 
Patrick A. Flory 
William E. Herron 
Robert A. Ivy, Jr. 
David M. Leake 
Richard W. Monet 
Steven R. Quarls 
Clemens B. Schaub 
Paul R. Svk^artz 
Dorothy A, Wright 



Stephen Patrick Alleman 
Linda Marie Argote 
Richard Even Baudouin, Jr. 
Richard David Bellah 
Maud Bivona 
Jody Lee Blake 
Deborah Marie Blattstein 
Kerry Stephen Bloom 
Richard Allan Bodziner 
John Richard Braddock 
Peter Konrad Bretting 
James Bruce Bumgarner 
Paula Abington Burgess 
Drusilla Lorene Burns 
Kevin Joseph Byrne 
Maria Magdalena Canales 
John Harold Cowan 
Cindy Lea Crawley 
Arta Kathryne Creamer 
Steven Murry Drucker 
Robert M. Duchen 
Thomas F. Duchen 
Charles Frederick Eick 
David Roy Eisen 
Joan Frey Paris 
Katherine Anne Fauntleroy 
Charles Monroe Getchell 
Jane Marie Graffe 
Marie Elena Gutierrez 
Catherine Lee Hellmann 
Colleen Elizabeth Henling 
Richard David Hindes 
Mara Beth Hoffman 
Sara Peak (Mrs.) Janvier 
Vicki Brown (Mrs.) Johnston 
Jerrold Mark Jung 
Michael Edmond Katz 

Janet Robin Kay 

Rock Edward Kent 

Victoria Lynne Knight 

Linda Land 

David Hamilton Ledbetter 

Cindy Anne Leissinger 

Peter Deal Little 

Yvette Ganucheau (Mrs.) Magee 

Lester Alan Marks 

David Earl Massengill 

Lucinda Ann McDade 

James Stuart McGrath 

Barbara Hamer (Mrs.) Menendez 

Vivienne Manachino 

Elizabeth Renee Monrose 

Herbert Hoffman Nelson III 

Thomas Edwin Niesen 

Marianne O'Carroll 

Alan Bruce Peterson 

Jon Robert Phillips 

Michal Dennis Purswell 

Isabel Waters (Mrs.) Sanders 

Thomas Charles Santoro, Jr. 

Edward Zachary Shaf er 

Steven Elliott Sheffner 

Laurence Mark Steinberg 

Daniel Garber Stroud 

Joseph Eugene Tusa 

Claire Helene Waggenspack 

William Otis Walker, Jr. 

Paula Jo Washington 

Janice Evonne West 

John Franklin Whitney 

Stephen Albert Williams 

Kimie Jean Wilmot 

Alan Neal Zvibleman 

Annamerle Zwitman 



Ernest Back 
Jeffrey Barter 
Richard Baudouin 
Lance Borochoff 
Kathleen Carlin 
Bernard Eichold 
Rick Fernholz 
James Ferrara 
Arthur Fishman 
John Hildebrand 
Douglas Joseph 
Paul Medellin 
John Nelson 
Richard Paddor 
Martin Paley 
Genero Perez 
Donald Peterson 
Michael Purswell 
John Sartin 
Richard Schuldt 
Gary Shamis 
Alan Smason 
Luther Strange 
Joseph Tusa 
Scott Wagman 
John Youngblood 
David Zalkind 
Edward Quatrevaux 
Raul Cotilla 
Craig Bachner 
John Tavormina 
Robert Aaron 
Bruce Feingerts 
George Ann Hayne 
Betty Shiell 



Mark Sindler — 66; 67a,c,d; 68a,b,c,d; 71; 75a, b; 76c; 
77a; 81; 82; 83c; 84; 86b; 94; 96; 105; 110a; lllb;118- 
121; 122c,e; 123a,c; 125a,c,d,e; 126; 127b,e; 142e 
156b; 157; 206a; 207a,c; 226; 227a,c; 232b: 233-234 
235a.c; 236-237; 239; 242a; 243b,c; 245a,c; 246b,c 
249b; 250-253; 254a,c; 255b,c,d; 256a; 260; 262; 263b 
264-268;279;299; 303b. 

Robert Paddor — 69a; 74; 83a,b; 90; 97a,c,d; 122b; 
127a,d; 145a,b; 146c; 149a; 162; 164-165; 258-259; 
263a; 269b; 273; 274; 275b; 252. 

Richard Paddor — 138c; 139d; 140a,c,f: 141b; 144b,d; 
145c; 241a,c,d,e; 244a, c; 248,c,d; 256b. 

Stacey Berger — 44; 45; 67b; 75c; 76a; 80a; 112b; 114- 
117; 124b; 125f; 138a; 139a,b; 140b,e; 141a,c,d; 142a, 
b; 143c; 146a,b; 147a; 148b; 149b; 150; 151a,b; 163; 
166-167; 241b; 243a; 244b; 245b; 248b; 249a,c,d,e; 

Buddy Brimberg — 2; 10; 20; 21; 22; 33; 63; 113; 129-135. 

Andy Boyd — 69b; 72; 78; 80b; 87a; 95; 112a; 122a; 
123d,e; 124e; 125b; 127c; 147c; 148b; 151c; 152-155; 
156a; 207b; 232a; 235b; 242b. 

Wade Hanks/Avery Crounse — 213; 216-217; 220; 224. 

Matt Anderson — 79; 92; 97b; 98-109; 142c,d; 143a,b; 
144a,c; 161; 206b. 

Mike Smith — 64; 202-203; 215; 218-219; 222-223; 330- 

Francisco Alecha — 86a; 91; 93; 112c; 122d; 201; 246a; 

Robert Sharpstein — 69c; 76b; Ilia; 124d; 270. 

Richard Monat — 137; 227b; 254b; 255a; 282-298. 

Dudley Sharp — 69b; 206a; 242c; 269a; 272; 275a; 276- 
277; 300; 302a. 

Toby Darden — 77b,c; 246d; 301; 302b. 

John Kelly Charhon — 73; 124a, c. 

David Levy — 247a. 

Grant Bagan — 85; 138b; 139c,e; 140d. 

Billy Daly — 169. 

Lee Schuman — 160. 


The 1975 Jambalaya was prepared by the students 
of Tulane University and printed by offset litho- 
graphy by Delmar Printing Company, Charlotte, 
North Carolina. 

The cover material is a special order Dark Maroon 
#78208 (Windsor Red), on 160 point board embossed 
with two hand-tooled dyes, and top-stamped in gold 
mylar foil. 

Binding is smyth sewn, rounded and backed with 
head and foot bands. 

Endsheets are Simpson Lee Teton, 65 pound cover 
bases, pale ivory. 

The paper stock is 80-pound Westvaco Coronation 
dull offset enamel. 

Display headlines are Busorama Bold in sizes vary- 
ing from 24 to 84 point. Headlines are Melior, 24 and 
36 point. Body copy is Melior and Melior Bold, sizes 
10 and 12 point. 

Duotones are with Pantone (PMS) 403 plus black. 

Pressrun was 2300 copies. 



This year's Prologue was originally printed in the 
1914 Jambalaya. 

Portions of the History section were taken from the 
1934 Jambalaya. 

Special thanks to Pat Trivigno, of the Newcomb Art 
Department, for his pencil portraits of the retiring 

The building photographs which appear on pages 
12, 14, 16, and 18 are courtesy of the Howard Tilton 
Memorial Library's Rare Book Room. 

The Theatre rendering on pages 88 and 89 was 
graciously submitted by G. Carr Garnett. 

Jon Hutchinson designed the Direction Logo. 

The artwork on page 204 was first printed in the 
1900 Jambalaya. The Medical School article was re- 
printed from the March, 1921 "New Orleans Medical 
and Surgical Journal". This piece was originally en- 
titled "Reminiscences of Dr. Andrew W. Smyth of 
Subclavian Aneurism Fame." 

The photograph of Tulane Stadium on page 209 is 
courtesy Mid-Winter Sports Association. 

Mechanic's Institute photograph on page 214 is 
courtesy of the Rare Books Room of the Howard Til- 
ton Memorial Library. 

Storyville photographs which appear on pages 
228-231 are courtesy of Al Rose. 

The Jambalaya logo illustrated on page 258 was 
first printed in the 1899 Jambalaya. 

Student portrait photography was furnished by 
Rappaport Studios, New York, New York. 

Some display type faces were excerpts from Art 
Nouveau & Early Art Deco Type fr Design, edited by 
Theodore Menten, Dover Publications, Inc., New 

Borders and design faces from Graphic Products 
Corporation, Rolling Meadows, Illinois; 

Special thanks to Armand Burton, University Re- 
lation's photographer, for photographic works sub- 

A hearty thank you to Patty Hymson for her pen and 
ink drawings which magnificently adorn pages 87, 
225, 239, 251, 252, 253, and 327. 

And special thank you's to the other members of the 
staff whose time and patience made this year's 
annual possible. These people include Sydney Whit- 
aker, Linda Lee Stump, Craig Cohen, Paige Golde, 
Diane Hudock, Rick Monat, Doug Vincent, and Lee 

Best of luck to next year's Jambalaya editor, Gordon 

And to the people who made the 1975 Jambalaya 
possible, many thanks to the Delmar Printing Com- 
pany, Charlotte; in particular Larry Marshall, Bob 
Anderson, Ralph van Dyke, and Gary McCullough. 


From The Editor: 

The Jambalaya staff takes great pride in 
the production of this years' annual. Al- 
though in many cases changes had to be 
made due to financial restrictions, we have 
done our hest to remain faithful to the words 
stated in our Prologue. I hope you find the 
book a Jambalaya of Jambalayas. 

Oh yes, should you develop a craving for 
Jambalaya after looking at the photograph 
of its ingredients on page two, just look be- 
low. Enjoy. 

Richard Paddor 

2 onions, chopped 

4 tablespoons butter 

2 fresh tomatoes 

V2 can of tomato paste 

4 cloves garlic, chopped 

2 pieces of celery, chopped 

1 bell pepper, chopped 

1 teaspoon of chopped parsley 

dash of Mcllhenny's tabasco 


V2 teaspoon thyme 
3 cloves, chopped 

1 pound boiled ham, diced 

2 pounds shrimp, peeled and boiled 

3 cups cooked rice 
Salt and pepper 

V2 teaspoon cayenne 
plenty of hot french bread 

Saute onions in butter 5 minutes. Add tomatoes and tomato paste and cook 5 minutes, 
stirring constantly. Add garlic, celery, bell pepper, parsley, thyme, and cloves. Cook 30 
minutes, stirring frequently. Stir in ham and cook 5 minutes. Stir in shrimp and cook 5 min- 
utes. Stir in rice, season to taste, and simmer 30 minutes, stirring often. Serves 8.